


Be my sins, I'm your sorrow

by TotemundTabu



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Children, Dom Robb Stark, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Drug Use, Past Infidelity, Past Sexual Abuse, Ramsay is his own warning, Sub Theon Greyjoy, Top Robb Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9555104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: After not seeing each other for years, Robb and Theon meet in a cafe by sheer chance. Although they had grown up and gone their own way, some things never change. Or, rather, they change, but never too much. - THROBB, side Tyrionsa, past Robb/Jeyne and past Thramsay.





	1. 1. Stagnant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CafeLeningrad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CafeLeningrad/gifts), [theonlyparadiseisparadiselost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlyparadiseisparadiselost/gifts).



**Be my sins, I'm your sorrow**

 

* * *

 

1\. Stagnant

 

* * *

 

Robb gave a deep breath, sighed exasperated and stared at him with the most exhausted, heartbroken expression.

“Brandon, I beg you. - he joined his hands together, imitating a prayer, already on his knees – Please, tell daddy what you put in your mouth.”

The little boy just smiled, mouth sealed and shook his head in a very firm 'no' gesture.

Robb sighed, “Brandon, this is a supermarket, you see... people pay for stuff, if you don't tell daddy what you ate, he can't pay for it at the cashier.”

Brandon frowned, putting together his eyebrows in a wrinkly perplexed joint.

“I think, it will be quicker if we just went away pretending it didn't happen, you know?”

Robb turned, “Really now?”

The man in the wheelchair nodded, reaching for a plastic web of bananas and throwing them unkindly in the cart.

“Yup.”

“Bran, I'm trying to teach him some good values and stealing is not exactly the...”

“He is three. - Bran pointed out, moving forward – This little thing doesn't have any idea he's stealing, he has no concept of property.”

“He knows his toys are his own.”

“He would if, like us, he had too many siblings to count. He is alone: everything is his and his alone.”, Bran grabbed the little boy in his arms and put him on his lap.

The child smiled, this time grinning, revealing big red stains all over his teeth.

“Strawberries...”, Robb resolved, smiling.

Bran ruffled the head of hair of the little mischief and grinned, “Good taste, small thing.”

Robb sighed with a smiled, “Uncle Bran complimented you, you know?”

“Thank you!”

“You're welcome. - Bran laughed – God, he looks so much like you, it feels weird being the one with him on the lap, like... I mean, you were the one holding me like this, you know?”

“I know... - he sighed, grabbing some apples, green as grass shining with dew – Do you think I will... manage?”

Bran smiled, “If someone can take care of a child without help, that's you, Robb. - he laughed – You kept all of us in check at fourteen, I am sure now that you are old as balls, you can manage with one.”

“Yeah but... - he pouted, while little Bran started putting his finger in and out of big Bran's earlobe piercing – We were never alone.”

“If you ask me, that's the base of many, many issues. - Bran laughed, tickling little Brandon's armpits and getting a giggle of protest out of him – Like why Sansa married as soon as she was old enough to or how Rickon is constantly in his dangerous game phase to gain extra attention.”

“I'd suppose so.”, Robb admitted.

“I'm serious. - Bran snorted – Also Bran is going to be heartbreaker, look at these chipmunk cheeks, he seems like a photocopy of you as a child!”

“I didn't have chipmunk cheeks...”

“You had the overlord of chipmunk cheeks, Robb, mom called you and Sansa Chip and Dale until you started middle school.”

“It was because of the front teeth.”

“If you want to lie to yourself to not face your issues, I'll let you.”

“Really now.”

“Look, both Bran and Isolde have those. You should just give up. I was spared because I had to share my room with Arya from when Sansa grew boobs and that is enough sufferance for one human being.”

Robb shook his head, “This is not nice to say.”

“How patronizing.”

“Thanks.”

“Pudding gets warm! - the young Bran protested, shaking his pudding – We have to go.”

Robb smiled and nodded, “You're right, let's finish here. Are we missing something?”

“Ice cream!”

“...okay, okay, let's go grab it.”

“I do it! - he claimed, proud – I can!”

Robb and his brother exchanged a quick look and then they nodded, accepting to assign the mission to little Brandon... following him with due distance without being noticed.

Bran turns to Robb, frowning, not hiding a slight worried expression now that the boy is away.

“Did Jeyne write you... after it?”

“No. - he sighed – Not that she has to. I messed it all up.”

“I'm sure she just needs time.”

“I shouldn't have said the truth. - he admitted and Bran never thought Robb could say something like that – I should have found an excuse to divorce, instead I... I screwed it up and now she doesn't even return my calls since when we signed the papers.”

“Robb, give her time, she decided to finish her studies, maybe she is just... busy.”

He laughed bitterly.

“She told me it hurt looking at Bran.”

“A mom shouldn't say those kinds of things.”

“I don't blame her. - he scoffed – I can't look at myself in the mirror either lately. I hurt her beyond the imaginable, I am lucky I could get custody.”

Bran seemed to agree on that, but didn't speak, he just stared at his nephew wisely selecting the chocolate chip cookie dough jar.

“Still, I don't get why she didn't want him.”

Robb clacked his tongue against his inner cheek. He knew.

He knew even too well.

“Don't be harsh on her. - he sighed – It was harder for her than for me.”

“If you say so. - he laughed, clapping at a very proud kid as he dropped the ice cream in the cart – Bravo, Bran!”

“Thank you!”

“You could be a basketball player when you grow up.”

He snorted, “I'm gonna be a teacher.”

“Like uncle Tyrion?”

“No, taller.”

“...you know right that...”

Robb grinned in revenge, “He is three, you can't force abstract concepts on him.”

“He can understand what a requirement is.”

“Pernickety creature you are.”

As they head to the cashier, Brandon very proudly helped with putting the groceries in the bags, Bran dropped a memory, “So, in the end, did you think about my suggestion?”

“Of?”

“Returning home.”

“I can still afford living in my home, Bran.”

“Not with the private kindergarten fees coming. - he pointed out, wisely – There is no shame in it, mom would be happy, she feels lonely since I got that University Laboratory offer for next year in Finland.”

Robb glanced down at his small son, happily dividing food by colour instead than by fragility or weight.

“I know but... Sansa and Arya moved out too. I'd be me, her and Rickon, it's a tad bit weird.”

“Pride will eat you alive...”

“I will find a flatmate, okay?”

Bran snorted, “You are a single father! Are you planning on finding a new love interest just to have someone to share the rent with?”

Robb shook his head, groaning, then picked up the groceries and tried to pick up little Brandon, who categorically refused and started walking, bringing a little bag with the orange things inside. He was so small...

“I don't think I'll find someone until he is old enough to understand.”

 

*

 

“Hey. - he grinned, charming – How are you doing, delight?”

Sansa's smile lights up with joy, “Oh, god, I can't believe it! How are you?”

“All fine, thanks. - a smirk, as usual – Returning to town to fix a bit the things...”

“I heard. - she nodded, confused – I'm sorry I was not there for your uncle's funeral, it has been so hectic around here...”

“Pft, don't worry. - he sat on the chair next and in front of her desk – I mean, I feel sorry, because I also didn't want to go and I more or less spent the funeral wishing to fall into a coma, so your presence would have helped, at least, giving me something interesting to do. But I get it, I mean, I... did my sister even invite you?”

“She did, but it was the week of the final tests of the semester and I barely remembered I was alive.”

“So... - he seemed impressed, smiling – Assistant researcher. It's not something I would have picture you doing.”

“Me neither, but when becoming a pop star didn't happen, - she told sarcastically, earning a genuine amused laugh back – Well, I always had a bit of an analytical mind.”

“You always were very observant. - he admitted – And after all mediaeval culture, poetry and costumes sounds a lot like Sansa Stark's jam.”

“How come you didn't come home to say hi?”

“Oh. - his voice crunched up, - Well, I... I'm not sure I'm welcome, you know. Your mom never truly adored me, so... I thought why not visit the only Stark who kinda likes me?”

“How selective. - she chirped – But Bran and Rickon like you too, for your information.”

His smirk kind of dies out and then he swallowed up courage and leaned over the desk more.

“Sansa, I... was... - he seemed to give up on saying something but Sansa didn't want to pressure him on that – I was considering spending a little more time here in town, before returning to London.”

“That... sounds really nice, Theon. - she smiled, caressing his arm – I'm so, so happy you decided to.”

“Well, it's a bit weird returning home after all these years, you know...”

Sansa laughed, “I find it cute, also Robb returned to town like four years ago.”

Theon's eyes widen, his pupils big as the moon. He got all pale but he can't stop a smile from raising and he hesitated a bit.

“Robb? He is back?”

Sansa smiled, knowingly, sucking her lips, “He is.”

Theon's eyes glimmered with joy and then a certain cloud fell on them.

“I, whoa, so much time... bet he got married, didn't he? He probably has like ten kids or something, a small Stark army.”

Sansa sighed, “Yes and no. - she mumbled – He married and divorced.”

“What?”

“Yup. Turns out Jeyne was not the one. - she said, seeming sad, but when her eyes locked with Theon's, there is like a gleam of... encouragement in them? He can't grasp well – She went back to University, admirable decision considering everything.”

“...I guess so, it's just.. weird, I mean, they were high school sweethearts, you know. - he brushed his hair quickly with his fingers, ruffling them more – I mean, I wouldn't have thought that...”

Sansa looked at him with a certain done look like she couldn't take him seriously.

“Life has a way to always go exactly where you expect it to go, just in an unexpected way.”

“You’ve started speaking in riddles?”

“Guess it's my influence.”

They turned and Sansa smiled seeing Tyrion enter the room with half of his shirt stained in blue.

“Am I taking Isolde is still in her blue period?”

“At least, at difference from the red one, I don't risk being stopped by policemen wondering if I butchered a prostitute. - then he grinned and gave the hand to Theon – Speaking of prostitutes, how are you?”

“Still hitting on your wife. I mean, you know the effect moms have one me.”

Tyrion let him go and laughed, going towards the coffee machine, “Have you gone to the DILF too?”

“Hm?”

Sansa shook her head, smiling, “Robb. He means Robb.”

“Oberyn agrees he'd fall in the category.”

“Oberyn, being bisexual and not married to his sister, can use the term DILF. - she threatened him jokingly – You are not allowed.”

“Spank me then.”

Theon raised an eyebrow and wrinkled his nose, “Ew, now I remember why I don't visit you two anymore.”

“And here I thought it was because you are allergic to children.”

“Isolde is a cute kid. - Theon allowed – I am just like... really against their... you know, existence until they are like ten?”

“Are you familiar with the concept of persistence of objects and the one of time-space continuity which kinda implies to arrive at ten the kid has to pass all the years before?”

“Baby, don't. - Sansa laughed – Theon is joking.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, perplexed, “Anyway, since I heard you are going to stay here, you may manage to pay a visit also to Isolde's little cousin.”

Sansa frowned, “Were you eavesdropping?”

“Just making sure I was not actually hitting on you, I think. - Theon grinned, just to sigh right after – So... - he sucked his lips and bit them – Robb has a kid?”

“Bran.”

“...Bran? Isn't he too young?”

“...he called him Bran.”, Tyrion sibilates, concerned.

“He... - Sansa's voice chocked, hurt – He considered calling him after dad, but... it felt too forced, so, he picked the uncle's name.”

“Yes, yes, makes sense.”

“Are you hurt you were not contacted for the news? - Tyrion asked – You and Robb really dropped every communication after you moved.”

“I- it was easier like that, I guess, you know... a strong cut.”

Sansa held Theon's hand, “Go to meet him, he will be so, so happy to.”

“I don't know, I mean... he might not want to talk to me or find it awkward. Years passed.”

“He misses you, Theon, I promise.”

“I'll give it a thought then.”, he granted, lying.

She smiled, pretending to believe him, then stood up to hug him.

Theon snorted but his voice sounded a bit terrified, “Another one?”

Sansa looked at Tyrion tenderly and sighed, “It's not like we programmed, you know? Also Isolde is going to love her little sister.”

“If she didn't take after her mom.”

She pouted, “I tried to kill her only once, and now we almost never throw cutlery at each other.”

“Sibling goals.”, Theon claimed, shaking his head in approval.

Not that he could actually say anything about that, considering his two brothers hated him and only Asha still talked to him. Tyrion probably was still in a similar situation, if he remembered, genders switched aside.

His mind flew to Robb.

A child.

With Jeyne.

Of course.

It burnt inside him, his ashtray heart suddenly filled with embers and then flames burning up all his paper rationality. He clenched his fists and then shook his head, sighing. Too much time passed for him to imagine to still have a right to speak about Robb's choices.

But still, marrying her? What was he thinking?

Did he actually love her, like, love love her? But then why divorce? He knew Robb enough to be sure that stubborn head wouldn't have given up something or someone important...

“I have to go, forgive me. - he smiled, charmingly fake as usual – I have to meet up with Asha.”

“Don't worry, pass by sometimes.”, she chirped, letting him go.

Tyrion glanced at her, curious.

“You're not getting involved again, are you?”

“Is it that bad for a sister to hope for the best?”

Tyrion seemed to agree, he tilted his head a bit, shrugged, then kissed her.

“Sometimes I feel you should have opened up a soul mate finding agency or something.”

“And you should have managed the bar in the back for them to drink. - she laughed, kissing him softly – I just worry for those two.”

“Those two are adult men, one three and one six years older than you.”

“We have thirteen years apart and I still have to pair up your socks. It's not my fault you all seem to desperately need a tiny bit of help.”

Tyrion gulped down the coffee, “I am not sure Theon Greyjoy is able to be helped, let alone in such a delicate situation.”

“He is not. - she didn't flinch – It's different, with him and Robb, it's not about actually helping...”

“If you say so. - he mumbled, sitting – But I'm always right and you know.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes.

Yes, fair, he was always right.

But, maybe, not this time.

 

*

 

Theon stared at the big coffee menu; they renewed the old diner he used to go to with Robb to study for tests, while chugging down ice cream and smoking their first cigarettes. That place had not changed in twenty years and now he returns and... nothing was there.

He expected the yellowed white tables, the red fabric over the big sofas, the coffee stains and cutlery scars on the wood counter, the TV always stuck on MTV – oh, right, MTV didn't exist anymore, whoa, he was old – and the smell of grilled onions caramelized.

Instead nothing was there, nothing was the same.

He sat down to a new, black, plastic shining table and scrolled the menu once again.

A young waitress munched chewing gum waiting for him to pick something. She is around Arya's age, he thinks.

“Could I have a salade niçoise and some black coffee?”

“Sure. - she snickers, thinking he is the first guy to order a salad in like centuries – Anything else?”

He shook his head, “It will be enough.”

As she left, he glanced at her ass, dried as a leaf, small as a bread bun. He groaned, sighing.

He really needed to fuck someone: man, woman, didn't matter. He just needed to stop thinking about Robb for a couple of hours.

He groaned again and then turned down as he felt his trousers being pulled.

And there it was: one of those annoying little things covered in snot and chocolate, a microbe with sweaty hands. The child grinned at him.

Theon gave him a forced smile, then a disgusted grimace, hoping for the thing to go away.

He was still there, stubborn weed.

He groaned, “Can I do something for you?”

“You have long hair!”

“...what an acute observer.”. He chuckled, sarcastic.

“You're a prince.”

“...that's not how royalty works.”

“Your hair decided it.”

“...and that's not how anything works.”

“Then how? - he asked, climbing the chair and sitting next to him, only from the nose up popping from the table line – Explain.”

The little thing seemed stubborn as very few people he knew. And with those people he shared the hair colour, like copper crossed from electric sparks as the sun kissed it. 

Thank god, his eyes were different, of the warm tender brown of chestnuts. His heart thanked the kid silently.

“Princes are born princes, but everyone can grow long hair.”

“Dad can't. - he pointed out immediately – They always stay the same measure.”

“Maybe he trims it. - a laugh – If he didn't, he'd have them as long as your mommy.”

“How long is that?”

He blinked, staring, “Excuse me?”

“You know my mom. How long is her hair?”

“Ah... - as it sunk in, a bitter sour flavour rode his tongue and he gave a trembling smile – I, I'm sorry, kiddo.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“That's not an answer.”

“I, I don't know your mom.”

“Then how did you know she has long hair?”

“I was just...”

“Brandon! - a desperate sigh, then two arms lifted the little boy from the chair and brought him into a pair of strong arms – I was so worried! I told you not to leave the table while I was paying!”

Theon couldn't bring himself to put his head up.

He was frozen.

That voice deafened him, blinded his heart and threw him off any strength.

His breath shivered and shattered, his heartbeat prayed to stop.

He raised his head and saw him, and he didn't change a bit.

He was keeping the little boy in his arms, scolding him, hitting the button nose, “Don't make dad so scared again! Or I'll leave you with uncle Jon.”

Theon for a moment considered disappearing, moving away from the table and going out of the door. Maybe if he were quick enough or fast enough, he declared, maybe they won't see him and realize who-

Robb turned to thank him and apologize.

And, oh.

Oh, he looked the same as he always did, didn't he?

Like his heart just jumped out of the ribcage yelling 'no, nope, I'm done, bye'.

“R-Robb, - he tried, voice all hoarse – Hi.”

Robb's eyes shone in joy and he threw himself close to Theon, hugging him, with Brandon violently protesting in the middle of their chest.

“Dad!”

“Ah, sorry, I...”

“You squished me! - he pouted – Does this seem to you a good behaviour?”

“Is the thing always so eloquent?”

“He is mocking me, I'm afraid. - he sighed, – Brandon, I'm sorry. Dad... - he placed him sitting on the table, then his hand went on Theon's shoulders – This... this is a friend dad hasn’t seen in many years, so.”

The eyes of the kid become huge with surprise.

“You are friends with a prince?”

Robb turned to Theon, still troubled by looking him in the eyes, and lowers his look, “Did you... emh, tell him, just to know which version to stick to?”

“It's the hair. He decided.”, Theon chuckled.

His voice got deeper.

Robb decided this factor shouldn't arouse him, but, christ, it did.

His eyes went up and down over Theon, all over, couple of times, glances getting quicker in need and desperate with the realization they had to stop.

“Ah, I...”

“So... - Theon laughed, breathy – He... he is very lively.”

“He is.”

Theon's eyes flashed sad, then he turned, suddenly, “Is he like Isolde or...?”

Robb shook his head, “No, no, they... she was more of an isolated case. But that... that wouldn't have mattered, you know?”

“I was not meaning to offend.”

“I know.”

“It's just, I... I didn't want your kid to be...”

“...sick? - he laughed – Nobody wants a sick child, but you still love them.”

Theon chuckled, licking his lips, looking at the ground.

His father never did.

Maybe his mother would have, maybe, just maybe.

“I suppose so.”

Robb must have realized what Theon was thinking about, because he came closer, moving the hand from his shoulder to the cheek. He could feel his other arm about to move.

He wanted to place it on Theon's waist.

Then bring him close.

Kiss him undone.

His thumb brushed Theon's bottom lip, feeling him stiffing under, confused.

He stopped, then blinked, “Ah... you were dirty, sorry, habit.”

“Ah. - Theon brought his hand to his face – Must have been the vinegar sauce, sorry.”

His glance trembled and lingered on Robb's lips. He couldn't notice Robb was doing the same.

“Dad?”

Robb stiffened, “Yes, umh, Brandon, Theon, Theon, Brandon.”

Theon chuckled, “He looks a bit like Bran when he was small.”

“He does, doesn't he?”

“... is this why... you called him like that?”

“Yes, I- I wanted to keep a family name.”

“Family was always the most important thing to you.”

He didn't mean to sound bitter. But he did.

He lowered his head, just to meet Brandon's tilted curious head, he had the eyes big and glimmering, like his father.

It broke his heart a bit but he didn't know why.

“Where is Jeyne?”

“She... - Robb cleaned his voice, he looked ready to puke with tension, but there was no anger in his veins rolling over – She went back to the city. She is getting her degree.”

“Oh.”

“She.. she dropped out when it happened so with the divorce she thought it was a good opportunity and I agreed.”

Theon's look fell immediately on Brandon, now exploring the breadsticks and the salt.

“And did the other interested part agree too or did you just walk all over him?”

He didn’t know how it came out so harsh.

So bitter. But it did.

It was not like him to defend a child, was it?

And yet something in his guts retorted and creaked and squeaked and pushed him all over the edge.

Because he was so small and the world was all so big, and Robb and Jeyne too were so big. They forgot how scary it is to be so little and have the world top you in a forest out of your reach.

“He... he barely remembers her. - he swallowed – Jeyne did a lot, for me, I couldn't ask her to stay.”

“This is not about you. - he looked angry, but Brandon was too intent in munching the bread to care – As usual, you are all kind and let everyone walk all over you! But you have another human being to worry about now, and he would have needed you to keep Jeyne here with him.”

“She didn't want to, Theon, you should know better than anyone that some people just don't do what they have to if they don't feel like it.”, and now his voice turned sour and sharp.

Theon stiffened, pretending it didn't hurt, “Well, that's why those people do not reproduce.”

“Don't lend your commitment issues a veneer of generosity, Theon.”, he warned.

But at that Theon trembled.

No, it was not about him, somehow, he felt – or rather, not about adult him.

It was about how scary it is being a kid and asking where is mommy.

His chest clenched and then he blurted out, angry, but then again more clumsy and nervous than actually ferocious, there was a subtle wounded ring to his voice, “Then don't lend to your congenital inability of saying 'no, fuck you' and to your dependency on passive-aggression the vaguest resemblance of respect for other's wishes, since you are still the same judgy kid with your little borgouise moral compass stuck so far up your – ”

Robb was stuck, Brandon turned and stared, trying to understand.

“Why are you fighting? - he mumbled – You are friends.”

Robb looked at the ground, embarrassed, “Sometimes friends fight, Bran, sorry.”

The kid pouted, “Well, then say sorry and exchange toys!”

“I don't think... - he looked at Theon to see now something broken and sad in that azure – I don't think it's that easy to solve.”

“Yes, it is. - he claimed, confident in the science of hands shaking and toy exchange – Each of you needs to give something!”

Robb seemed about to protest but, before he could turn to Theon again, there was a hand towards him, palm up, with a little lighter on it.

“I'm sorry, okay? - he coughed, staring stubbornly down – I overdid. And I don't have anything else.”

Robb's hand brushed warmly against him as it took the lighter.

“...well, I needed one.”, he mumbled, awkward.

“Now you dad! - he crossed his arms, imitating a sentence and gesture he saw – I have to do everything on my own in this house!”

Robb snorted and Theon followed, putting a hand in front of his nose.

Robb didn't expect Theon to bend close to the little boy and smile at him. Theon loathed kids, he refused to talk to Rickon or acknowledge his existence until he was ten.

“Was that Cat?”

The kid beamed, happy to be recognized, “Yes, grandma Cat!”

“You are a great actor, little one.”

“I am not little, I'm a big boy.”

Theon laughed, “You will be as big as dad, for sure. - he smiled and Rob was sure he was hallucinating – And then if he took you on the shoulders, you'll be able to hit the sky with your head.”, he told him, ruffling his red hair.

“Ouch!”, he laughed.

“...you... you like kids now?”

“Not really. - Theon laughed bitterly and shook his head – But it's... it's yours, so.”

“Wait. - a laugh, then he came closer – Are you making an effort at being well-mannered for someone else's sake?”

“Maybe. - he rolled his eyes then shrugged his shoulders, playing it off – Look, I'm still a jackass, but... I did go to therapy and... this kid already will be screwed up without a mom. I don't want to traumatize him and make his life a mess.”

“Well, thank you for the faith in my parental skills.”

Theon laughed, “You already knew that. - he kissed Robb's cheek – It's fine, Robb, we're all a tiny bit screwed up. You'll make sure he is fine.”

Robb put a hand around his own wrists and untied something, handing it to Theon.

A little black leather strip bracelet. Ruined. So ruined.

Why would he still have it?

Theon's eyes widened.

“We can never go back to Manderley again...”

“So I kept Manderley with me.”

Theon seemed close to crying, he smiled, sucked his lips, his eyes shimmering liquid light.

A harsh breath escaped from his mouth as if it was too deep for his lungs to keep in, “...you did, didn't you?”

“Do... do you want to join us for lunch? Our table is just over there and...”

Bran looked radiant, “You see! Presents help!”

Theon nodded, making sure not to cry, then grabbed his salad and cleaned his voice, “Lead me.”

Robb took the little Brandon in his arms, getting a vague protest of “I can do it alone!”, he decided not to listen to. He wanted to hug him tight and thank him.

But Brandon was still too small to understand sometimes dads need hugs more than kids do.

Brandon sat unwillingly and restlessly; he kept raising up - feet or knees on the children's chair – and trying to speak to Theon. He was a friendly kid, Robb always knew, but he was never as happy of this lively attitude as he was now, somehow... maybe, because, in a way, he had dreamed of that. Once, a long time ago.

Before everything got torn apart.

Before the trench they dug into each others' heart.

He cleared his voice, feeling a weird pain.

“I'm sorry about your uncle...”

A laugh, “Why do you all think I cared?”

“Because he is part of your family.”

“So was my dad. - he shrugged – Not everyone grew up in a big happy family.”

Robb frowned.

He remembered, though, Theon crying, bowling his eyes out at his mother's funeral. And he knew he would have given anything to have his father love him at least a crumble of how she loved him.

He saw him crash and burn against reality many times.

How did he grow so distant from his own family?

What happened in the years they spent not speaking, like children taking baths in the stagnant swamp, trapped in their own voiceless quarrel?

Which shadows crept into his body and sat between his bones, swinging on his ribcage and petting his heart, telling it sweet nothings of hardness and solitude?

“It'd be just natural to feel bad, you know? After all, they were your family...”

“We'd just always fight. - he let out a dried out chuckle – That's all we ever did: fight and resent each other.”

...did he feel too, at times, like emptiness was tangible and real – not just absence but it itself a presence dense as petroleum or regret – and that it filled them up so that he was filled to the brink with how empty he was?

Did Theon know? Would Theon understand?

He... he always did. He used to, at least.

He licked his bottom lip, then let it out.

“I fought with my dad before he died.”

Theon rose his head, “How come?”

“I told him I wanted to divorce Jeyne... - he sighed – He... he understood why, he said he knew, that he always had but... - he closed his eyes – That I took a responsibility and I was an adult and had to do the right thing and do my duty.”

Theon blinked.

Then, he was right.

Robb didn't think well before marrying Jeyne.

He knew he shouldn't have been feeling happy or elated but, suddenly, he could perceive a feeling of lightness inside him, as if everything turned out easier.

He was not supposed to rejoice Robb's doomed from the start wedding.

He glanced then, terrified with realization.

Ned Stark died four years before, more or less.

He turned to little Bran, munching his oven baked potatoes one my one – first smashing them against the curve of his fork, then putting them in his mouth while they were still squished against the metal, munching it two or three times before assaulting another – and having the hair of the sweetest colour of the sunset and that little smile he never could even fake.

Were they the same, then?

A little band-aid, not anymore sticking to the skin, burdened with the duty of a joy he can't promise to bring.

Theon swelled up and Robb saw his look and understood. And he smiled, tenderly.

“I'm glad I tried a bit more. - he hugged little Bran, bringing him into his arms and making him squirm for freedom like a little squirrel – I got this one at the lottery!”

A frown, “...is this how kids are born?”

“...sort of. But usually it's not between the prizes.”, Theon mumbled.

“Uh?”

“Uncle Theon was saying that not all the prizes are cute as you. - Robb corrected the aim, glaring jokingly at Theon, who'd stick out his tongue – I got the coolest one!”

“I'm the mountain bike!”, he screamed, eyes sparkling.

“Yes, you're the mountain bike. - he shook his hair – You are my beloved mountain bike.”

“Am I a red mountain bike?”, he asked, doubtful as if it were very important.

Theon looked down at himself: what was he doing there? Sitting at that table as if he were part of the picture...

That little thing had Jeyne's eyes.

He had nothing to do with him.

And he couldn't lie to himself and tell himself than he and Robb could ever...

“Theon?”

“Yes?”

“Were you... did you listen to me?”

“Sorry, got distracted. - he admitted, then smirked to hide the embarrassment riding his face – You were saying...?”

“When do you plan to return to the city?”

“Ah... I took a break. - his smug grin seemed to die for a moment but returned again – Too many people, too much noise, it was hell to focus.”

Robb noticed the lie, but didn't dare to intrude.

“So, where are you staying?”

“I'll try to find a solution, crushing at Asha's place sounds like suicide.”

Robb remembered Asha: the only nice sibling for Theon and... well, not the nicest person around per sé. But she was funny, always made them s'mores, and didn't tell their fathers about them watching porn so...

“Do you – want to – ?”

Theon blinked, not understanding.

Brandon stopped and stared, curious.

Robb could feel both their pairs of eyes set on him, detecting any doubt he might have had. He knew it was silly. 

And a bit idiotic.

And not helpful at all.

But somehow, as each and every time he was close to Theon, he couldn't help but fall right into his gravitational field, smashing into his orbit, crave for closeness.

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to act like he didn't care, “I have an empty room at home and we'd need help with the rent, so... if you want...”

Theon stared, enchanted.

A small smile hesitated on the corner of his mouth, tingled, then it went away, substituted by a proud, cocky expression.

“Well, I am a great flatmate. - he turned to Brandon – I make amazing Jaffa cakes.”

Brandon rejoiced, almost jumping on the chair, “You are hired!”

“...Bran, you don't hire people to...”

“Sssh, you don't make me Jaffa cakes.”

“I understand your... - Robb thought about the word – ...priorities, but... wait a moment, you cook now?”

Theon shrugged, but looked shy, “I.. had to learn, living alone, so.”

Robb smiled, “I'm glad. Once you would have never done anything so remotely feminine.”

“Yeah... - he paused, swallowing – About that, maybe I should...”

“Can I have them with strawberry jam?”

“Bran. - Robb turned – Theon was saying something important.”

Theon, though, the coward he had always been, pulled out a grin again and laughed, “Don't worry, hey, kiddo, we can make them with any type jam you want.”

Brandon shone in joy, clapping his hands, foreseeing the delicious treat, while Robb lowered his head, smiled at seeing baby Bran and... and Theon, getting along... it was like a little dream.

And then yet, something, over that table lingered – something gloomy, sticky, from the past and from the present.

Something untold, something heavy.

His eyes fell on Theon's hand, his mind got lost in thinking how much he wanted to kiss that hand and hold it in his own...

Nothing changed, after all, for him; he realized, bitterly.

 

 

* * *

 

**NOTES:** So, this au was born from a comment of Cafeleningrad about dad Robb and I died cause it was way too adorable. For the kids, I was mainly using my nephews as references, because, ugh, kids are actually hard to write, I hope my memory about when they were Bran's age will not fail me. Please, keep this in mind also when it comes to Isolde in the future. This should be updated weekly (day more day less), and should be 10 chapters in total, while another day of weeks I'll try to publish one of the other things I'm writing :)

 


	2. 2. Sentiment

**Be my sins, I'm your sorrow**

 

* * *

 

_**2\. Sentiment** _

* * *

 

 

Robb's apartment was exactly how Theon would have imagined it: Jeyne's.

Robb always had that unhealthy tendency to let her chose everything and lead her to believe her taste was theirs. She accepted the easy victories, unaware of the sense of guilt they came from.

The whole pristine whiteness and the unangled surfaces imprinted of 50s design told him how much Robb must have had refrained to tell and how little he tried to be himself over the years. No wood, no brown, no red.

The only photos were of Bran or of the whole complete family with siblings, parents and in laws; no photo of the unhappy couple to be found, not even of the wedding day. So or Robb had thrown those away already, which Theon found improbable, or Jeyne had already been cracking her shell and seeing the rotten outside of it.

He entered doubtfully, pulling his two suitcases, almost afraid to scratch the floor. 

It looked like marble but he'd feel too bad-mannered if he tried to touch it. Surely it was not the beloved parquet wood-floor of the Stark house, on which he and Robb used to roll, after laughing too much, sharing stories, holding hands through horror movies and – 

“This is the living room and kitchen. - Robb said, waking him up – Then those doors are Bran's bedroom...”

“I sleep in a shark!”

Theon squinted his eyes, “Aren't you scared?”

“What? Sharks are cool! Have you ever seen Jaws?”

“...you are like a bit too small for...”

“Let it be. - Robb sighed – Kids are less easily scared than I thought they'd be. Remember Rickon watching The temple of doom at two?”

“Rickon had always been serial killer material, though.”

Bran pouted and walked to Theon, grabbing his hand, “I’ll show you!”

“Baby, let Theon see the rest of the house before... - Robb almost begged, his voice the softest he could remember – He must be tired, maybe he wants to put his clothes away, see his own room...”

“...well he's gonna sleep where daddy did, no?”

Robb swallowed, suddenly shame filling him up with red all to the ears.

So him and Jeyne...

Theon coughed, “How about we quickly put away the luggage and then I come to you, hm? Which toys do you like the most?”

Bran's eyes shone as he shrieked, “Lightsabers!”

“Oookay, well, glad to see our childhood is still not prehistoric.”, Theon chuckled.

Robb stared at Theon, as if he had something extremely important that kept him awake at night to say, “These make sounds and lights and they look like real neon lights.”

“...Envy.”

“I know.”

Theon returned to look at Bran, “Then lightsabers, what about you start preparing them, while I clean my hands and put these on my bed? Hm? Ten minutes tops.”

Bran pulled him again, “But you have to come soon! Promise, promise!”

He had the same freckles over his ears that Robb used to have.

“I promise. - he smiled, ruffling the curls – You are too cute to say no to!”

Bran sped to his room, almost falling over himself, while Robb stared at Theon, impressed.

“...you are... not awful with kids?”

He shrugged, “He is a cute one. But I will miss Isolde's fashion goddess toy, just being honest here.”

Robb almost snorted, “I knew you'd rather play with that kinda stuff but he is a very stereotypical baby boy.”

“It's hard to imagine Jeyne letting him use dolls if he wanted to, though.”

Robb stared to the floor, “She... she did try to... you know, let him chose. - then sighed – I was the one against it, though.”

Theon blinked, “Why?”

“I was afraid he'd be like me.”

For a moment Theon realized he had been unfair in supposing Jeyne's wins had in any way felt good and not just arid and lonely.

“...Robb, look, I never had girly toys and I still loved fashion and I still became an artist and I still got...”

“I know, but you're not gay, Theon.”, Robb blurted out, resentful.

He thought... he thought he was not angry about that anymore, after so many years.

He was sure he got over the whole...

Theon's hand touched his wrist, he looked at the ground and took a big breath before nailing his eyes on Robb's.

“About that... I wanted to-”

“It's fine, Theon. - Robb shrugged away, looked pained and awkwardly stiff under Theon's glance – It's not like I was there crying about you.”

“I didn't mean that. - he scoffed – Who'd think someone not to be over them after years, c'mon?”

Robb softened and smiled.

“You are right, I'm sorry.”

Theon took a deep breath and he could feel his knees tensing, wanting to jump and jerk, just slightly, to kill that little height gap and make him meet Robb's lips.

And tell him the truth this time.

But he didn't.

Robb turned, “That door is the bathroom, we have both the tub and the shower.”

“Hm, now I'm sold.”

“That one is my room, well, mine and.. Jeyne's room. - he opened the door, showing a little room, mostly pink, for a moment Theon thought it looked like Sansa's room when she was sixteen, a luminous french window with a balcony, and white country-styled wardrobes in... wood – We shared this, for a bit.”

“You don't have to tell me...”

“It's fine. You know why it ended. - Robb paused and proceeded towards a door, opening it to show a room a bit dark with a big library and a big window – This is the studio, I used to sleep here. It's a sofabed but it is damn comfy, but... if you need a real bed we can exchange, I am used to this one.”

“It'd be a bit awkward sleeping in your wedding bed.”

“It wouldn't be your first time sleeping in one.”

Theon could feel his heart clench.

It's not that Robb meant it badly. When they were in highschool, Theon did by all means sleep around and mostly with unsatisfied milfs, bored housewives, sometimes some businesswoman without a family and in need of a boytoy to show off. He didn't date people his age or lower until... well, until the city.

So Robb couldn't know.

“It's like with children. - he faked a laugh – Yours is an exception.”

“I see. - Robb chuckled, not noticing Theon's mood worsened, and bit his bottom lip – Ah, I, the bed is nice though, I swear.”

“I, it's fine, I can also sleep on the floor.”

Robb furrowed his eyebrows, “...why would I let you sleep there? What are you? A dog?”

Theon hid the dagger he felt crossing his back under a vague metallic laugh.

“I said I can, not that you should let me.”

That voice echoed in his brain, he could almost feel that tongue wetting his ear and that cock pushing through his unprepared flesh.

He could still...

He trembled, laughed again and scratched his head, “But, umh, so my room is accessible only from yours?”

“Yes. - Robb admitted – Sorry, maybe it's not nice for dates but...”

“I won't bring dates.”, Theon claimed, firmly.

“... you?”

“I... I won't bring them, I'll sleep at their place, that's what I meant.”

“Oh. - Robb sighed, a bit disappointed but unsure why he'd expect anything – Well, hm, if that's all you can go start unpacking. Do you want me to make some dinner?”

“I already ate a lot for lunch, don't worry, I'm full.”

Robb frowned, “From the salad? - he laughed, then pinched Theon's hips – Also, you're all skin and bones. Always been thin, but this is a bit too much, isn't it?”

Theon's breath got cut in two like from an axe.

He could feel the warmth of Robb's hand – pleasant, different – and the gentleness of his voice, he moved close albeit not too close, or not enough maybe, and his leg was almost between his own and his hand pinched on his Iliac crest and he, god, he shouldn't feel the need to throw his arms around his neck and push his tongue through those lips.

He was a father now, god damn him.

He couldn't really date, let alone boys.

And, oh, Christ, how was he supposed to explain that development to Robb after all those years?

He didn't even seem to have forgiven him yet.

There must have been an easy to decode lewdness in his eyes, because Robb looked at him and seemed to have many feelings pass through his face: surprise, curiosity, confusion, arousal, denial.

His hand moves slightly up on Theon's waist, making him squirm in a shivered jerk.

Theon hit himself against the wooden dresser. It killed him the realization Robb could have lifted him, make him sit on the flat surface and fuck him blind if he wanted to.

His lips trembled, Robb seemed to bow over him.

Then, his fingers met a rib.

And he froze, in horror, staring at Theon, “... again?”

“No. - he shouted – No, no, it's not that.”

“Promise?”

“Yes. - he sighed – I just... - god, he felt so ashamed looking at him and having to find a believable lie – I had some money trouble in the city. I didn't... always eat. I'm not used to big meals anymore.”

He was so tired of lying to Robb.

But he couldn't tell him about that.

Ever.

He could not have told anyone.

Ever.

Nobody would have believed.

Robb hugged him tight, and whispered, “It's fine. You could have told me... - his warmth hurt more than ice – I will make you something easy to digest, okay? What about rice soup?”

A laugh.

He remembered that terrible soup.

Robb's mother used to make it for her children when they felt sick in the stomach.

“I won't eat that garbage.”

“Ah-a, don't offend the holy rice soup, it has healing powers.”

“Every soup has healing powers. - Theon replied, smirking – Some have flavour too. Groundbreaking.”

Robb snorted and tickled him, “Heretic!”

Theon laughed, putting his head against Robb's shoulders and enjoying the tickling hug.

God, he smelled like baby powder and chocolate milk, how could he find it sexy at that point was beyond his understanding.

A cough awoke both of them, making them separate abruptly.

Little Bran stood there, pouting, “Ten minutes passed!”

Robb flushed in embarrassment, wondering if he could... understand in any way or guess or, “I- we, we were discussing dinner plans.”

Bran seemed convinced by this, nodded, and then claimed, “Cauliflower!”

Theon glanced at Robb, “Cauliflower?”

“He is a weird kid, but I'm not gonna complain about him liking veggies.”, Robb pointed out.

“... with fries!”, Bran added, guessing the cauliflower was healthy enough for Robb to let him have a treat.

Robb sighed and turned to Theon, “Would those be fine?”

Theon looked at Bran, “You just saved us both from rice soup.”

“Ew. - Bran looked at his father, horrified – We have a guest! You can't make snot soup!”

Theon took Bran in his arms, raising him, and gave him a little high five, leaving a very offended Robb behind to complain “It's good!”.

“Your daddy is a momma’s boy.”, Theon whispered into Bran's ear like he had said a secret.

Bran laughed putting his hand in front of his mouth.

When they were in the room, Bran basically jumped down and showed Theon all his toys, way too many for him to remember, so he spaced out and started looking around. He did sleep in a shark-shaped bed, after all, and the walls of the room were of a pretty blue color with little prints of lighter blue sharks and little stickers of stars of a greenish milky color, which Theon deduced would glow in the dark.

There was the scent of fresh cotton, that artificial one you get from detergent, and probably Robb still put a bit too much. He always overdid things like that, to make sure it was okay.

Sometimes he gave him three Christmas presents to make sure he liked one.

He liked all of them, of course, but it was funny to tease him.

There were no photos of Jeyne...

He remembered when in their own house, they took away his mother's photos after she lost all her marbles in a waterfall of colourful glass and memory spilling away, down the stairs, away from the sink, in the gutter of the world.

She had none left.

When he left, the only thing that comforted him was knowing he was not leaving her behind.

She kept asking him where her Theon was.

She kept asking him so she could kiss him on the forehead.

Cause she missed him so...

… and he, he missed her more. But that didn't matter to her brain, turning itself off, slowly and then all in a moment, like a bulb becoming the color of the deep ocean after weakly flickering.

He remembered her funeral.

Asha and his father were composed, dignified, he didn't put on a suit, but Asha swore he tried, he just couldn't bring himself too. Maybe, maybe he suffered too. But that for Theon is impossible to conceive.

He, he cried.

In public. Which was a first.

He cried like a baby, before standing then falling with his knees in the mud, the rain fucking up his hair, drenched, and his clothes into a heavy cold mass.

He remembered Robb, running to him, helping him stand up, and hugging him – that warmth... that warmth he should have not wished for.

That warmth remained with him.

And saved him another time, many years after.

“What do you want to play with?”, Bran asked, grinning, after he laid the whole content of his toy chest on the rug they were sitting on.

Despite distraction, from a quick look, Theon discovered that, more or less, little Bran had similar taste to Asha when she was small, and that made it a bit easier for him to play with.

“Your pick. - he said, staring at his soft auburn curls and thinking how once also Robb was as small as that, god, he really fucked up with him, didn't he? – I trust your wise judgment.”

At first it was cowboys versus magicians – it made sense from how Bran put it, okay? - and Bran played the first two, leaving to Theon the very important role of the horse and Obi-wan – which he was not sure who he was, but he had a lightsaber so he was cool – who had to rescue the magicians. Seemed legit. And easy.

Imitating horse noises was not his speciality, but imitating Ewan McGregor was not something he didn't already try to swoon some lady off her feet. Easy.

At least until Bran turned to him.

“You are a grown-up, right?”

Theon laughed, “So the government thinks.”

“...what?”

Right. Sarcasm. They don't grasp it.

“Yes, I- I am bit older than your dad, actually.”

“You look younger. - he blinked, reflective, mumbling – Maybe it's the hair.”

Theon grinned, “Thank you, I grew it myself.”

“Why don't you have a child?”

Theon gulped, “I... don't even have a girlfriend, so...”

“Also two boys can have kids, Isaac at daycare he has two dads.”, Bran explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Theon swallows, uncertain what to reply to that, “Is your dad really okay with you knowing this?”

“Dad said storks can't distinguish boys and girls. - Bran blinked – Didn't you know?”

Theon laughed nervously: that was the typical Robb Stark answer that answered absolutely nothing.

He sighed, “You know, some people think storks should see that... distinction, and my parents were... like that.”

“Also your mom?”

“I, yes, I think so.”

Little Bran furrowed his eyes a bit, thinking, the mumbled, “That's dumb.”

“Maybe. - he toyed with a little power ranger between his fingers – But I am not very good with kids anyway.”

Bran seemed very confused, “You are great at playing the horse.”

Theon snorted, “Thanks, I'll put it in my resume.”

Bran stared at him, frowning again.

And then Theon softened and smiled for real, “...thank you. You are a great cowboy magician yourself.”

“I know! - he grinned – Daddy is a disaster, he always asks who are the good boys.”

Theon sighed, “He was never a fan of grey characters narrative...”

“What does that mean?”, Bran blinked, confused.

“That... he, well. - he paused and puffed – Whoa, that's hard to explain.”

“You grownups always use words you can't explain.”

“You are very right.”

Bran looked a bit bothered by a thought, “Theon.”

“Yes?”

“When you go away, will you say bye bye?”

Theon looked at the floor, thinking about everyone he left, thinking about his uncle and father and mother, all rotting with worms around their flesh.

He smirked, very proud and put his hand on his heart, “A prince always says goodbye before leaving.”

Little Bran threw himself around his neck and held him a bit too long for his taste. Theon could feel the little hands sticky with sweat.

But he didn't complain.

 

*

 

“Guys. - Robb smiled, opening the door – Dinner is...”

Well.

Wasn't that Theon Greyjoy, hugging his son?

Theon “kids are like the black plague but pocket size” Greyjoy.

Theon “meh if she's pregnant I hope she tells the husband it's his” Greyjoy.

Theon “crap I think this time I went close to risking” Greyjoy.

And Bran looked so happy, almost like he found the softest blanket in the universe.

He cleared his voice, “Dinner is ready.”

Theon turned and, upon seeing Robb, got a bit embarrassed, while Bran speedy-gonzaled away from the hugs to spacerocket himself to the kitchen.

“Fried power. - Robb laughed, then offered Theon a hand to get up – You seem to be getting along.”

“Well, don't be mean, I was not bad with Rickon and Bran either.”

Robb snorted, “When they hit ten.”

“When they went beyond the pooping, spilling drooling phase!”

“...more like eight years after they went beyond that.”

Theon looked offended, so instead of coming up, he pulled Robb down, jokingly.

He wished he didn't.

First off, Robb was way heavier than once – he did work out for the sweet saviour Jesus – and he almost squished Theon, who also fell right over Obiwan and his very point lightsaber, also he was sure he had a micromachine under his back. He tried to move away, but he was weight-stuck. And Robb stared at him, blinking, just some centimetres from his face now.

He could feel him breathing.

And then he could feel something else against his leg.

His eyes widened, surprised and Robb, mortified, stood up, moving away.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It just rubbed!”

He was panicking, his voice got all high and fragile and quick.

Theon tried to regain himself and smirked, raising an eyebrow, “Robb, c'mon, it's okay to be happy to see me.”, he said in the most clearly lewdly joking pitch he could imagine.

Robb blinked, unsure if he could trust that comment.

Theon grinned, smug, then winked, “Single fathers don't get to do it often, hm?”

Robb relaxed, “Yes, I'm sorry, I... don't even know since when...”

Okay, hold on.

“After you and Jeyne...”

“No. - he seemed almost offended – I mean, I... I couldn't. Bran can't bear me having a series of one month long relationships.”

And sex without affection was not exactly his thing.

Theon knew that, theoretically.

But still, hearing it like that.

It shouldn't have aroused him, right?

For a moment he was tempted to crawl on his knees to Robb, take him in his mouth and offer to relieve those months of need.

Then he realized he shouldn’t have thought of that, not even in the slightest.

Robb scratched his nape, “Ah, let's go to the kitchen, before Bran decides to finish all the fries.”

Theon nodded, raising up.

Robb noticed only then something weird.

“What happened to your collarbone?”

A weak, tilted laugh, “Ah, this... this is just an old scar.”

Robb almost threw himself on Theon again, pulling down his shirt more and seeing the scar following down to at least the nipple.

“...how the fuck?”

“I- you know me, I got in trouble with some husband.”

“Whoever did this is crazy. It must have bled for days!”

Just hours. Actually.

Theon's grin got sharp in nervousness, “Hey, occupational hazards.”

Robb looked wounded. He knew Theon was lying, but what could he do? It's not like you can force someone to tell you the truth, especially on something so delicate.

He just turned bitter.

And jealous.

“Was she even worth it?”

Theon's look got sweet, almost moved.

“She was.”

And Robb felt his heart light to flames and thrown into ashes.

“Did you love her?”

Theon snorted, “Nah. - he shook his head and smirked – That's not me, you should know.”

Robb wondered why else he'd face a husband who'd carve a long scar in his chest for a woman he didn't even love. For a moment, he thought maybe Theon was lying, but, no, he wasn't.

There was no hidden passion in his voice.

He looked just tired.

“Theon...”

“Yes?”

Robb lowered his eyes, “I want to... catch up.”

Theon looked almost... happy. He raised his eyebrow and gave a smug laugh.

“When kids go to bed, we will talk.”

 

*

 

“I'm sorry, okay? - Robb laughed, holding his stomach – It is not that dramatic.”

Theon stared, speechless for a while, at the absurdity of that claim.

“You gave me dinosaur-shaped fries. To me.”

“I forgot there are other types of fries by now. - Robb confessed – At least he is not anymore in the dog shaped nuggets phase.”

Theon laughed, drowning in the soft sofa.

“I protest, my aesthetical sense and my taste buds both committed suicide over this.”

“They are not that bad.”

”Whatever thing that has herbs or salt already added is bad – Theon complained – You should add that yourself.”

“A single father who buys dinosaur-shaped potato bites is not gonna add chives over them, Theon.”

“Your category is lazy and tasteless.”, he mocked.

He breathed in, staring at the ceiling of a pristine candied white. The blue moon and the tenderest azure night painted it like fresh waters.

It was cold, but not unpleasantly.

There was nothing harsh, nothing rough. Time was silk, velvet the place.

He turned to Robb, to find him leaning on one side, head resting against his arm, smiling at him.

“The cauliflower needed more salt.”

“Noted. - Robb smiled, biting the corner of his bottom lip, his canine tooth almost shining – I'm glad you ate, though.”

Theon sighed, “Your son has your same appetite: he is a hoover.”

“Hey! I never ate much!”

“At home! - he pointed out back, laughing – Because you always waited for all your velociraptor siblings to get food, but then we'd go out and you'd be like 'what about chicken nuggets' before we'd go drinking.”

“Chicken nuggets are yummy.”

Theon shook his head, “You are a hopeless case...”

“So. - Robb seemed to become serious, he turned even more towards Theon with his body, looked low as to save him the embarrassment of an eye to eye conversation – What happened in these years?”

He sighed, looking away.

It was all cerulean and soft, like a dream. Maybe, like in a dream, he could have let some things out.

Robb's hair almost looked dark in that light, spectrally dark, but his eyes were as tender as the night itself.

“I went to the academy and for a while it was fine... - he started playing with his fingers, Robb could see some scars of them, mostly white, a couple still a nasty red, some went around the fingers like rings – But when I finished, I couldn't land any big role, just... you know, the usual bad guy. I got a couple of Danny Zukos in small places and... that was it...”

Robb frowned, coming closer, as to envelope him. His eyebrows bent in sadness.

“How come?”

“Competition? - a bitter laugh – Lack of talent, maybe, I don't know... - he rolled his eyes to avoid staring in the darkness – ...then I started doing stuff to arrive at the end of the month.”

A clench in the stomach.

“...like?”

Theon bit his lips, he tried to smirk but he failed.

“I don't know how it... it just did, you know? I sort of... didn't have the perception it was happening and so fast and so much and I... rolled into it, like an avalanche.”

He remembered the sensation of no air, feeling suffocated and pushed and trapped. Things sped, his knees lost equilibrium and he hang on to the only thing in his reach.

And it was a disaster.

“I made some adult movies and...”

“Oh. - Robb let out, almost strangled – I mean... you are well- so...”

Theon scratched his ear shell, “You know me, it's not something I'd be ashamed of, but... after a bit they become too many and it cost me roles.”

Robb's eyes looked watery, tense. He seemed to struggle to understand or digest all of that.

His bottom lip quivered.

“I'm sorry.”

“It was fine, in its patheticness. Until I –”

Could he even tell him? About that? About him?

Would have Robb even looked at him the same had he known?

Would he lose any crumble of admiration he held for him before?

Robb moved closer, concerned, “Until you?”

Theon's eyes slipped on Robb's lips. His heart flickered off.

A smug smirk, “I was not very satisfied with it, it was boring. - he shrugged his shoulders – So I left.”

Robb frowned, “Theon, if there's something wrong, you can...”

“What? Tell you? - he mocked, snorting – So you can tell Jon about it and you two can laugh about it?”

“What? What are you speaking about?”

Theon shook his head, biting his lips, “I mean, I get that Jon “peanut” Snow may need something to build up his selfesteem, but telling him about my mother's fune...”

“What? - Robb came closer, putting a hand on his wrist – I never told it to him to shame you! Why would it even be shameful? It was your mother!”

Theon's eyes glimmered in shame. He turned away, his lips getting red.

He held his jeans tight, his knuckles turning white, and Robb's hand moved on them, trying to comfort him but seeming stranger, scorching, sinful.

Theon tensed up, stiffening, his voice hoarse, “I was in the mud crying, I mean, I bet Jon had no more joyful thought for days.”

Robb glanced at him with utmost fragility. As if he were kept together by the kindness of air.

Theon could remember only another time seeing him like that.

And that time, he did ruthlessly shatter him.

Robb's voice sounded deeper, thicker almost, “Theon, I know your father... grew up with his crazy views but... Jon didn't laugh nor find solace in that. He was... feeling like shit because he had no idea how to help you. - he sighed – I know you didn't get along, ever, but when this shit happens it doesn't matter, and he told me how much he... he would have liked me and Sansa, if we could, to tell you also from him he was sorry. - he breathed out again, clenching his hand now that Theon escaped from it – I don't know which... idea you have of me, Theon, but I wouldn't be much of a prettier sight if my mother left me. And I was not when my father died. I... - he laughed, sadly, remembering, licking his teeth in embarrassment – I crashed all the vinyl’s he gave me. And I drove into the forest and punched a tree and broke my hand.”

Theon blinked, “You broke your hand?”

“Punching a tree.”

“You lost to a tree...”

“You see? - Robb smiled, trying to laugh under the tears – Not manly at all.”

Theon sucked his bottom lip and shook his head, “But then why did you tell him?”

Robb's mouth stayed open, agape.

He licked his bottom lip, then bit it.

How could he say the truth? How to remind Theon the whole reason they split?

His mouth let out a dry whimper, a hesitated dry sigh, he furrowed his eyebrows, trying to collect some dignity.

“I loved you, you know that. - he realized how sour the last words sounded and how much more in contrast to the sweetness he wanted them to convey, he scratched his ear and tried again, this time, tenderly – I loved you and... I didn't tell you and I... - he breathed in – When I was helping you stand up, I almost did. There, at your mother's funeral. I almost confessed. - words were heavy stones and slimy eels – I felt ashamed, I told Jon because I felt if I saw you again, wanting to comfort you, to let you know you were not alone and unloved with that dipshit of a dad, and I was afraid to... - he laughed it, ignoring the pulsing wound he tore in himself, just to strangle the laugh in a sigh – I didn't want to ruin things.”

Theon blinked, unsure where to touch.

That whole topic, that whole thing, made them of glass and stupidity.

And oh he was so ungraceful last time...

“...since then?”

Robb laughed it off, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, “Since when did you think?”  
“I- I don't know. - he admitted, reddening, feeling stupid and yet... flattered, oddly – I always supposed it was just a bit of a crush, you know, because you were gay and so you got a crush on the best friend, like... a ritual? A milestone, I don't know?”

Robb laughed, this time genuinely, and nodded, “You underestimated my stubbornness, then.”

“It seems so... - he couldn't look at him and turned to the side – ...since when, then?”

His hair fell over his shoulders, as his head turned again towards Robb.

A soft silky waterfall of darkness for him to touch... and for never being able to touch, at the same cruel time.

Robb forced a smile that didn't undull his sad eyes, “I don't know. - he almost whispered – I have no idea..”

And Theon was not sure if there was a good reply to that.

How could Robb not know? Wasn't there a moment when he realized, when he just knew? Rather did he never start and never stop but always had? And then, why, if all... not try to grab him, to talk?

The silence he thought he chose for years now burdens him.

Sure he left the town, left Robb behind with as little as a small goodbye ticket and dust.

But Robb... Robb didn't search, he didn't look for him nor desperately nor half-assedly.

Theon always thought that was due to Robb not caring much beyond a common crush, but if it were that big, why?

Sure, thought, he remembered, he did reply so awfully to his confession.

Probably that really was enough for him to stop and give Jeyne a chance, after all, she did love him, foolishly so, like only a girl her age could. And Robb, Robb deserved to be loved.

Despite what he may have thought of himself over time.

Theon's heartbeat drummed, pounded, shook his flesh and rumbled.

How to overcome a factory flaw that made him too heartless to not reject his bestfriend – no, Robb – just because … and his father... ? And which premade form of pain, grief and regret was he supposed to use, to apply, to look the most heartbroken as possible and gain a forgiveness he didn't deserve?

The cerulean blue turned darker, almost powder and the taste of sugar got almost chemical in his mouth. The moon shone pale and milky.

“Did you love her?”, Theon asked, half having it slip from his mouth.

Robb didn't answer immediately, rather, he let that question sink through his skin and simmer for an answer.

“Yes, I did. - he replied, frowning – I loved her, I think. She had been my companion, my advisor... we were friends. But I couldn't shake this sensation that...”

Ha glanced at Theon, and he'd like to be honest.

He would have liked to tell him he shook him, shook him unravelled and unstable.

He would have liked to tell him he resented him a bit, a tiny bit, for making him fall so hard – because, because that sensation couldn't be forgotten.

He felt it, like a fever, like a shivered thunder, silent under his skin, destructive in his spine, the memory of being touched so deeply by something so big and stupid and intense left him unsatisfied with anything plainer.

And he thought of the scars thunderstruck people get like dead trees tracing their nerves.

Nerves that now had known, had felt more than ever.

And how was a caress going to compare to thunder?

How was his love for Jeyne going to be more than what the water for cleaning brushes is to a painting?

Robb was not sure how to be honest without humiliating himself further. He had no intention to lie to Theon, to lose him again – to a truth or a lie, both seemed possible and awful – but he couldn't deny to himself a wish to not expose anymore how much his heart missed him, flesh aching in desire and thirst and greed for even just his presence.

“...that I was faking a joy she'd deserve her husband to feel.”, he concluded, simplifying it, looking away.

Theon was worried, wounded maybe, but all he could do was unsheathe his tilted smile and his crooked sense of humor, “Was it the sex?”

Robb coughed, clearing his voice, rubbed his nape: he seemed embarrassed for a moment, maybe even shy. He seemed almost needing of care.

And, somehow, Theon liked that.

“I disliked the sex but... it's not like I had much... to compare it to, so.”, he admitted.

Of course, Robb Stark: faithful to the bone to his stupid principles and silly beliefs.

Of course he wouldn't have cheated on Jeyne or had sex with someone he didn't love.

Theon wanted to cheer him up, perhaps. He is not sure what he felt right then.

A feverish temptation companied a certain familiar shame and an ancient tenderness – he wished he could have replied something better, with hindsight. But it was not the first nor the last time he'd reply to something with a rush and irony trimming his smile sharp and sly, careless if he'd fall into some obvious exposure.

“It's not _that_ different. - Theon snorted – But I mean, two virgins and one of them gay, what could you ask of you and Jeyne, honestly?”

Robb stiffened, frowning. At first, Theon thought he had been cruel, that maybe Robb and him lost the perception of each other's limits and teasing points with time, but that didn't seem the issue.

Robb was not offended, he was curious like a cat finding a shadow he doesn't know, going to explore and hunt it down to understand where it came from. And what it meant.

He put his hands together, nervously, playing with them, unsure if being blunt.

“...how do you know?”

Theon blinked, cursing himself in all the languages he knew how to swear in. And it was a good number.

“That Jeyne was a virgin? - Theon tried to play it off in a laugh – No offence, but she's no beauty and charm is not her strongest trait.”

“That it's not that different.”, Robb insisted, nailing his eyes on Theon, questioning.

Theon swallowed dryly.

 

 


	3. 3. Sacrilegious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final pat is the remixed/updated version of my fic Heartbreak Hotel, making it as a memory in the past tense and orienting it more from Robb's point of view and adding a part, cause this whole fic was born actually as an idea from that fic!

**Be my sins, I'm your sorrow**

 

* * *

 

 

3\. Sacrilegious

 

* * *

 

 

“That it's not that different.”, Robb insisted, nailing his eyes on Theon, questioning.

Theon swallowed dryly.

He looked away.

Words trembled in his mouth, rubbing his throat like slimy gooey horror. They refused to be swallowed, but they wouldn't come up.

They'd stain him deep, under and below the bones, feeling like a shadow pressing on his throat. 

He felt marked by  _him_ again, once again, all over again.

“I was meaning to tell you before. - he admitted, a nervous tick pulling the corners of his mouth up – But I, I'm not sure how to start.”

Robb raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to expect.

Theon rarely admitted embarrassment or shyness before, and always about rather heavy matters concerning his family. It was almost scary to see him hesitating so much in front of a topic.

Theon regretted that sentence quite immediately.

He cursed himself, wondering why he didn't phrase it differently, because now, now, he needed to say  _something_ , anything, but something. 

And what was he supposed to share?

Oh, I had a boyfriend, by the way. Yes, I rejected you awfully last time we talked because I was afraid to be gay, but I am anyway and discovered it with someone else, surprise!

Oh, by the way, that boyfriend turned out to be abusive and did a bunch of awful shit to me, which is why I actually ended up here to hide from him, funny, huh?

Oh, and the scars? I'm full of them? Wanna touch, wanna put your finger in the wounds? Wanna have sex with me? Because, oh, oh god, I would, I would even if you didn't want me again at all. Oh, and I'm an expert at sucking now, ahahah, when you say you always learn something from every situation, lol.

He gave a smirk that was all tilted and trembling.

“I had a threesome in a porn. - he laughed, loudly, slamming his leg, hiding his eyes – It was so weird, ah, but it feels basically the same, I mean, depends more on the partner and what you do rather than the genitalia, you know?”

Robb frowned.

He was lying, he knew that.

But he was not sure he could have borne the truth.

If Theon actually liked also boys and rejected him not out of... sexuality but due to his personality or... that, that would have hurt way more.

Maybe, maybe Theon wanted to protect him, in his own way?

The thought made him stiff and he pushed that away – no, probably Theon just... he just didn't know how to confess this to his gay friend. He was probably just ashamed of the irony of the situation.

“Well. - he let out, trying not to sound bitter – You’ve fucked more men than me!”

Theon swallowed, embarrassed, “I mean, it's... it's not like you can't try.”

Robb blinked. Did he just...?

“What”

Theon seemed to have understood what he said and stiffed up, “I mean, you can... try and I'll baby sit Bran.”

Robb remained silent for a moment and then gave the fakest smile he could afford.

His voice sounded like if it were kept together only by a fragile thread of glue.

“It wouldn't feel... right to just have sex with random strangers.”

And then Theon's throat clogged too, and his chest felt full of tense air and burning embers. And he pushed himself forward, about to say, about to claim, about to admit.

His lips quivered.

And for a moment he was about to let the words burn out of him, drop on Robb like oil and nectar and honey and coals.

But he saw Robb staring back at him: eyes swollen with hope, eyes hollowed out by fear, eyes waiting for a word from him on the verge, on the edge, on the brink of every silence.

Robb, who loved him a long time ago.

Robb, whom he had hurt horribly over and over.

Robb, who most surely didn't want him anymore and, of course, it was surely better for both, wasn't it?

He shook his head, “You could date, you can download tinder or grindr or something like that... I'll, I really like Bran. - he swallowed up – He kinda looks like you and he is sweet, you know? No snot at all. - a nervous laugh raised from his chest, trembling up his throat – Almost no snot, just a tiny bit of – ”

Robb interrupted him this time, placing a hand on his waist, gripping his hips, pulling him closer.

He looked almost angry: his eyebrows furrowing, his eyes squinting in an almost wounded way, and his lips parted, teeth showing. Theon's glance fell on those lips and couldn't rise up from them. He remained there, like stone frozen under the thick veil of winter.

He shivered so hard, Robb could feel it, against his hand, his spine almost shaken. And Theon was so sure Robb did notice how he couldn't stop looking at him.

Theon breathed in and barely could let any air out, while Robb's fingers held his hips, his thumb rubbing on the skin, brushing it ever so softly.

Robb seemed about to speak too, words crowing in his mind, like jackals, and they seemed to eat his heart out with torment.

Theon would have liked to have the courage to interpret that all as desire and kiss him madly.

Instead, he couldn't bring himself to think Robb would, could, even.

And Robb, Robb was not sure if he had the strength to try and risk being rejected for a second time.

Words were heavy.

And they brought him no mercy.

He moved the other hand to the back of Theon's head, bringing him closer.

And he caught Theon in a kiss, in his mind.

He pulled away, but his hands stayed on him, as if he needed to taste his warmth, to keep it in, to absorb the presence of Theon after years of being cut off by his absence.

Theon would still shiver under him, hiding his face, trying to avoid that look.

Robb's hand passed over Theon's spine and ribs, gentle and yet scrutinizing. 

Theon had gotten so skinny... again, but he promised he was not taking stuff anymore, so... he just had to believe him on that, he supposed. But then again, it’s not possible to be so skinny naturally, even if you have to skip some meals? It was... different.

It felt weird. The void around his fingers felt heavy.

But he ate in front of him, so. It couldn't be a – he was not even sure if men do get those...

He was unsure even of why he was so worried, when perhaps he should have been still angry at him. Had he really forgiven him that easily? Just seeing him again was enough for him to crumble back at his feet like the most desperate of teens? Maybe he always knew it and that was why he went away.

He also couldn't speak to Sansa face to face for months: he kept reducing contacts as much as possible, and she noticed and- but she never tried to ask why. And he supposed that since she always claimed she'd hope for Theon to accept his love and she always pushed him to confess – suddenly a pang of thick grudge hit him back – that she had guessed it was related.

But she never apologized either. Not that she had to... nor Theon... but. But.

God, he felt like puking.

And then... then he couldn't stop a thought, a silly little thought.

A silly, simple, limpid thought: he was not tired of Theon, not yet, and that... that man who broke his heart and left him, that man who had no care for him, he hurt him beyond repair and more than anyone else. And, more than anyone else, he made him happy.

He felt good.

He felt best, better than anyone else.

“Robb?”

Theon's voice echoed like thunder.

Robb moved his hand away, slowly, frowning. “...are you okay?”

Theon sewed up a smile, “Why wouldn't I be?”

Robb smiled, shaking his head, and raised from the sofa. He smiled but he looked disappointed.

“As you want. Not going to force you.”

When Robb left the room, Theon felt his heart tighten up and he could have sworn all the stitches on it came off, leaving him to bleed out.

 

*

 

It's not like Robb thought it through.

It's not like he programmed it or something.

It just happened like the branches of rivers or avalanches on healthy grounds – he caved in, collapsed all over himself, like a fucking idiot.

Theon was  _there_ .

In the room next to him, which was by far the furthest he had ever slept when they shared a roof, but after all those years of distance, oh, it seemed so close, almost like a vulgar wish, a wet dream, came true. Maybe it was a devil tempting him, driving him insane or something like that.

He had believed in that stuff once, hadn't he?

He believed in gods, angels, devils – he thought Theon was sent to him as a gift by god and he believed of the devil tempting him with impure thoughts about him. He believed he should have stopped not just to preserve a friendship, but also for the sin inherently sitting in sex without... an outcome.

He believed in all of that, until he realized how Theon looked at him.

With such purity, such awe.

Like he had never had a friend, a brother, a home before their friendship.

And then he realized it was not god's doing or a devil's thrill, it was him. Him and his desire, him and his lust, him and his needs. Him and his love.

And it was wrong not due to a biblical order, but because Theon could have never wanted him back... he still didn't know how stupidly and why he decided to confess years ago.

He looked at the door, separating them and wondered if Theon could hear him; he remembered as he started sleeping there, he couldn't hear the TV – Jeyne used to watch it, to keep herself company at night, to keep a bit of sound, because silence crept her out or hurt her deeply, and she'd fall asleep with it, unable to turn it off, and it would stay on the whole night, painting her in red and green and artificial light.

Like his artificial love, grown forcefully, kept together with duct tape and regret.

Oh, how badly he had wanted to love her; her, who was so sweet, her who wanted candied violets on their wedding cake because they ate them on their first date – and Robb, Robb had not remembered.

Because that day he had been thinking about Theon rejecting him.

That day and every other day, like a curse, like a tattoo, like a name carved into his bones.

He couldn't even hear her TV or the sobs she probably put out, in a fountain, unable to understand why, all of a sudden, he'd left her alone.

She probably blamed herself...

He leaned on his side, staring at that door, imagining him sleeping.

His thoughts now drifted to the nights they spent as teens, sleeping in the same room, sometimes one on the bed and one on the floor, soon, both in the same bed, as innocent as it could be, and yet, to Robb a pure honeyed torture.

He'd stare at Theon sleeping, shadows and lights dancing on his face, his lips wet with the dew of impure dreams.

And, may he be damned, how he wanted him.

How many nights he fell into temptation, closed his eyes and snuggled close to him, imagining that breath over his naked body, and how much and how deeply had he wished to kiss him or touch him.

But Theon, Theon had many girls – always had them.

He lost his virginity at thirteen with the substitute French teacher, and felt the need to tell him about it in detail.

And so he always did, over-sharing, over-telling, over-depicting to him the women he fucked – how their boobs jiggled when he took them from behind, how soft and tender the flesh of their hips was when he'd bite into it, how acute their voices when they'd melt in cum. He knew it all.

And he spent those nights waiting, hoping that, maybe, perhaps, it would have been his turn one night.

He hoped for them to touch under the blankets, for Theon to want to train him – everyone is allowed some silly fantasy, no? – for maybe Theon to... just... grab him and kiss him or let him do it; but nothing ever happened.

It was all wishful thinking.

Hopes for a kid that wanted to be loved.

In his dreams, Theon would close his eyes with him and his hand would go to Robb’s pants and caress his urges away, while placing on his lips the sweetest of kisses.

He could almost imagine it again.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the idea of Theon opening that door – in his mind, his smug smirk is honest, in his heart, he is always sincere – and he'd come to the bed, place himself over him and push himself in his mouth and his hands would be everywhere on his body. Robb would rebel, throw him on the bed, and Theon would moan and look at him with desire pooling in his groin, throbbing to be released.

He'd push and thrust into him, Theon would guide him, eager, slutty even, and would come from his thrusts.

Robb could imagine that well, while all the nerves of his body tingled, electricity running through them. His hand went to his briefs and he started stroking himself.

He started bucketing his hips into his clenched fist, imagining fucking Theon – would he shout and scream? Moan? Just groan and grunt? How vocal would he be? - and how he'd stuff him whole and feel him so tense and warm around him.

He wondered it if would have felt like Jeyne's.

He bit his hand, while the other got faster and his breath irregular and stiff. He could feel his arousal iron up and start to drip into precum. He wanted him.

The idea of Theon, under him, humming and panting would make his cock too hard to bear.

He sped up the movement, arching his back, grunting, mind going there and there again – at every jerk, he'd think about Theon's voice bent into a vulgar moan.

He could almost feel his warm tightness around him as he'd come inside him, making him shout out of pleasure, as – 

“Robb?”

He choked up.

He remained silent for a moment, wondering if he had heard that right or if he had dreamt of it.

“Robb?”, he heard again, tentatively.

His voice cracked, “Yes?”

He could hear Theon at the door, leaning his forehead on it.

“Can we talk?”

Robb swallowed and made sure to be covered, hiding the erected shaft as much as he could before stuttering his response.

“Yes, sure, come in.”

And when Theon entered in the room, he looked like years ago, when maybe sorry for some silly, trivial fight, he'd come to apologize and joke around.

He just looked more mature then, more tired, perhaps.

Robb wished he looked less beautiful.

Theon had a smile painted on his face that made him look so much younger: shy, tempting, mischievous like a child who knew he had fucked up but also knew he could gain forgiveness with his cute doe eyes and, perhaps, by offering candies.

Robb smiled back, awkwardly, “Hey...”

Theon sat on the bed, looking at Robb's face – thank god – and he seemed to not notice the bump in the sheets, where Robb's raging, pulsing erection was hidden, whining for attention.

“I'm sorry if before, I... - he shook his head – I lied to you. And I'm sorry. You are helping me so much with this house thing and...”

Robb frowned, sitting straighter, “This is not why you shouldn't lie to me, Theon. It's not about owing me a favour, it's about the fact we are friends.”

“...are we?”, he laughed, bitterly.

“What do you mean?”, Robb asked, fearful all of a sudden.

Theon sniffled.

He sniffled. And looked at the ceiling, biting his lips.

He looked about to burst out crying, but Robb knew if he showed he had noticed, Theon would have stopped being honest, so he forced himself to be silent and listen.

“I know I fucked up. - Theon let out, almost as if it burnt his tongue – I fucked up, I went away, I treated you like shit, I know this.”

“Theon, you... - Robb knew he shouldn't have looked at Theon's hands and chest, but there he was again, he forced himself to focus – You didn't have to love me back.”

“But I did-”

It slipped out, he panicked, breathed in and out, felt his throat clench. Robb blinked, paralyzed by surprise, by hope.

That look again.

And Theon backed away, “I did have to reply nicely to you, you were my best, my only friend.”

Robb had a hard time swallowing that, but he did, with a smile.

“It's fine, I should have called you over in all of these years...”

“Robb, I... I didn't want to worry you. - he trembled – You are helping me and I love it and, I'm fine, I was not, okay? - his smile got sharp, metallic – There is no denying that I was in shit, but I'm fine now and... I don't want you to worry over the... leftovers of a past situation, because you are already doing so much.”

“Then... - Robb asked, looking at him in the eyes – How about I ask you to reply honestly? So I won't worry?”

Theon sighed, “And what if the answer makes you worry more?”

Robb laughed, “You'll grant me I don't have to worry and since you'll be sincere, I'll trust you.”

On Theon's lips a smile rose.

Not a smirk or a grin, rather a soft brush of joy painting his lips.

Robb placed his hand on Theon's cheek, he caressed it, softly, then he lowered the hand slowly, ever so gently, and his thumb rubbed on Theon's bottom plump lip, descending gently, until the tip on it pet it sweetly, rubbed it faintly, delicately, lovingly.

He could feel Theon's breath whimper under the touch.

And he moved forward.

Theon lowered his glance, unable to bear the tension that touch sent through his bones and veins.

And then he saw it: the bump in the blanket.

“Oh.”

Robb took a moment to realize what had made Theon's eyes wide open. 

He moved away, suddenly, “Ah, it's not what you think, it was.. already there before you entered... the whole time, I mean... - at Theon’s blink, Robb realized he was making the awkwardness worse – I, it's just... you know.”

And Theon knew, of course.

Now, that was the weird thing, though: Theon didn't smirk.

It was not the first time Theon walked in on him masturbating or with an half-done handjob and his standard reaction was a smirk, a mocking, naughty laugh – which made the situation more prominent, of course – and a smug offer to take care of it. Or a comment like “well, I'm happy to see you too” .

But now Theon just looked... shy, unsure.

Robb wondered if it was about the confession: maybe now he thought that arousal was for him, which was not wrong but, okay, knowing or suspecting it was for him and was unsure of how to comment it?

Or was it about what had happened with that whole sex movies thing?

Theon was never... timid about sex, then again Robb supposed that type of thing may change people over time.

He also said he fucked a man, so maybe...

… was he thinking about him, perhaps?

Panic suddenly seized Robb and he stayed there, unsure and frozen. Theon moved a lock behind his ear and stared at Robb directly in the eyes.

“Do you want me to...?”

Robb swallowed dryly, staring down at him and seeing he didn't flinch, rather, he stared, intense like a cat ready to jump on it’s prey.

Theon meant it.

Robb was unsure about what to do with that sudden awareness.

Was that Theon's way of saying sorry? His apology? Or did Theon... perhaps...

Theon stiffened and moved further away, “I'm sorry, that was totally inappropriate.”

“Are you trying to go back to Manderley?”, Robb asked, blunt, his heart drumming into his ears, his lungs echoing in the breath he couldn't let out.

Theon smiled and swallowed.

“Yes.”, he said.

Because, Theon meant, going away was the biggest mistake he had ever made and he missed it and loved it and Manderley was all he had ever wanted.

Because, Robb understood, he felt so guilty for hurting people and he was unsure of how to regain a friendship and manage to pretend there was not an unrequited love in between.

Manderley slipped from their fingers all at once, and yet they still held onto it, didn't they?

Theon's hands went on Robb's wrist, where the leather bracelet still was, and he caressed the veins and bones of the hand, the big, soft shape. Robb's hands always had been so warm.

“I'll need... - Robb coughed and glanced down – I need to go to the bathroom...”

Theon nodded, but then something stirred in him.

“Do you mind if I sleep next to you? - his eyes shone – As... in the old times.”

Robb accepted, but this made his visit to the bathroom way longer.

 

*

 

Robb woke up after a good, healthy, two resting hours of sleep.

He spent the night rolling, turning, twisting, trying to avoid a second boner or, later, ignoring it, taking care of it, avoiding a third and so on. At 6 am, he was honestly so tired he contemplated the idea of going to sleep on the couch.

It was not his fault, though, okay?

First of all, Theon had barely upped his pyjama game over the years. When they slept together he always had shirts and briefs – although he admittedly slept naked once alone – and the only change was the length of the shirt’s sleeves, which, of course, were not Robb's main problem.

Second, Theon was fucking cute. It didn't matter how many years had passed, whether he looked a bit older, he was as handsome as the first damn day puberty let him out of it’s awkward phase – which was way too early for cosmic justice, mind you – and he still had those same beautiful traits and plump lips and features like a god and hands and everything. God damn him.

Third, Theon was a messy sleeper. He mumbled and sucked in his sleep, with that voice rolled up in dreams that made him sound so damn cute but it was also hoarse and husky and Robb was not ready for it, and he rolled in bed. He. Rolled. in. Bed. Abort mission, he rolled still in the fucking bed.

He rolled against Robb's chest first head in the front and, dammit, Robb felt like he was hugging him and shielding him and that was cute, another time he rolled pushing his butt against Robb's crotch area – seriously, god? Seriously? - and when Robb finally gave him the back Theon rolled again next to him and hugged him as if he were some sort of giant plush so there was not only the “too tender to be true” factor, but also the “I can feel your dick” factor.

Robb was about to scream, exasperated with himself and with his luck, beyond any patience he could have held onto.

That night was by all means a little nightmare.

But the morning...

He was still sleepy, tired down, bags under the eyes, and rays of light rained over them, white and soft, they looked almost liquid as they bathed in them, Theon purring like a cat, holding the pillow as if he hadn’t seen one in ages. He smiled against it, enjoying the scent of fresh cotton.

Robb was sure not even in his wildest dream he felt so happy.

So complete.

Just by an illusion, just by the lying idea of Theon and him... waking up next to each other every morning.

He moved closer and kissed his shoulder softly.

He smelled the same.

How many nights did he wait for Theon to sleep and then sniffed his hair and skin?

Theon stiffened, mumbled something, he seemed scared.

“No, Ram...”

He sounded like he was whining, crying even.

Robb would have liked to shake him and ask for an explanation, instead he rested his face on Theon's shoulder and whispered softly in his ear, “It's me, Robb” .

Theon smiled, munched something and returned to sleep quietly.

Robb decided to remain like that for some long minutes, until his personal alarm clock busted in the room and jumped on the bed.

“Daddy!”

Robb made him sign to be quiet and held him in his arms, hugging him and welcoming him under the blankets.

Bran seemed quite worried, though, “Is Theon fine? - he asked – Did he get a belly ache?”

Robb shook his head, caressing Bran's soft curls.

“No, honey, he had bad dreams.”

“Because of thunders?”

“Because of thunders.”

“Thunders are scary. - Bran claimed, frowning very scientifically – Even I get scared of them.”

“Makes sense. - Robb promised, holding him – They make a lot of boom.”

Bran sighed, then looked beyond his dad at Theon and frowned again, “Theon is not very good at grown up.”

“How come?”

“He is funny. - he objected, getting a bad look from Robb – He draws well and he is still scared.”

“Also grown ups are scared.”

Bran seemed to find the concept amusing, “But you look for monsters under the bed...”

“Adults are scared of other things?”

“Like? - he blinked – Aunt Lysa?”

“Aunt Lysa is a great example. - he kissed Bran's head – Theon met some scary monster, Bran, some real scary one, this is why now he is again scared of thunders.”

Bran's eyes got big and then he moved away from his dad and stared at Theon intensely, deciding something.

“He came out well!”

Robb almost laughed, “Yes, because he is actually a great warrior. - he smiled, staring at both of them – He just doesn't know.”

Bran put his hand on Theon's shoulder and shook him a bit, Robb tried to protest but it was vain and some moments later Theon opened up his eyes and smiled at the little thing.

“Well, this turned into a family reunion.”

Good to see his snark was back.

Robb looked mortified, “I'm sorry, he wanted to wake you up.”

“It's fine. - Theon claimed, raising up – I haven’t slept this well in I don't know how long.”

He glanced at Robb and Robb could swear it was meant to be seductive somehow.

Or, at least, ambiguous.

Bran grinned, proud, “There are no more thunders now!”

Theon furrowed his eyebrows, perplexed, then decided it was too early to discover the reason behind such specific information.

“So, umh... - he looked at Robb again – Do any of you want breakfast?”

Both the redheads' eyes shone in delight at the idea. Warm breakfast? Breakfast that wasn't cereal? Was that an option? Were they in heaven?

“Pancakes!”, Bran shouted.

Robb turned to him, “Bran, Theon is doing us a favor, you can't make a request!”

Bran seemed outraged at the accusation, “Why not?”

“Because...”

Theon put a hand over Robb's mouth, shutting him up.

“It's too early for explaining manners to him. - he looked at him, smirking slightly, then winked – Also, you know how I like to please people.”

Robb was glad to see Theon being back to his pre-night flirty self, at the same time, the way his stomach clenched at that comment made him spring and jolt.

To add insult to injury, Theon’s pancakes were so good that Bran gobbled down thee in a second and then turned asking for more with an adorable, vaguely “ready to kill for more” look on his face and a smile from eye to eye, so wide that Robb for a minute considered that his son could be made out of plasticine.

“For someone who eats like you do, you cook like a god.”

Theon snorted, “That's why I don't make girls stay over. - he smirked, sarcastic – At the pancake, they fall in love.”

Robb grinned, ready to sting, “Oh really? I thought it was before...”

“No, Stark, that's orgasms, you should try sometimes.”

Bran blinked and looked at Robb, “What's an orgasm?”

Robb chocked while Theon, calmly, explained, “When two people are very happy together durin-”

“Don't explain this stuff to him! - Robb panicked – Bran, this is a word for grownups, okay?”

Bran put up an outraged pout, “How can only adults use a word! Words are for everyone!”

“It's a word... you need a diploma to use.”, Robb came up with.

Theon stared at him, half-disappointed, eyebrow raised, unconvinced as to communicate to him that was the most ridiculous excuse he had ever heard. But to Bran it seemed believable and he nodded, reflecting.

“It's because it's spelled hard?”

Robb nodded, soundly, “Exactly.”

Theon whispered, “Should we really lie to him...?”

Robb glanced, “Should we explain to him the reproductive department?”

“Well, my brothers-”

“Your brothers are not the pedagogical example I'd stand by, Theon.”, Robb pointed out, trying to contain a laugh.

“Hey, hey. - he smirked and pointed at himself – I came out pretty well, didn't I?”

“I have objections.”, Robb snickered, and Theon, dramatically acting offended, stole the syrup from his hand.

“How dare you, young man.”

Bran stared at the two for a long time, intensely, thinking finally his dad was laughing.

 

*

 

“Bubble, bubble, bubble!”, he shouted.

Bran pierced the soap bubble fiercely and then splashed his hands in the water, proud, “Done!”

Robb kissed his ear, then gave another massage to the hair full of shampoo foam.

“You're getting big.”

Bran grinned, “Aunt Sansa says I grow like a dog, little, little and then big!”

Robb nodded, “Well, aunt Sansa is smart, so we have to trust her!”

“True.”, Bran agreed, moving around in the bathtub while his father kept trying to pull him back to finish the important cleaning operations that Bran, in all honesty, didn't care much about.

The water was pleasantly warm and Bran was honestly so happy he was now bathing in the big tub instead of that small thing his father used before, that he tried to stay good, but after some minutes he did forget about his proposition to be a well-mannered little boy.

His father, also, was quite insistent on cleaning him in ticklish places like under the armpits and under the feet! Like, honestly, how could he have expected composure?

Theon knocked, bringing a tower of freshly dried towels and placed them near the bathtub. He stubbornly forbid himself from looking at Robb, despite temptation.

Bran, though, had still no well-developed concept of modesty.

He knew he couldn't get naked in kindergarten, but that was mostly it.

“Theon! - he shouted – Come with us!”

Robb clenched him and pulled him close, keeping the belly of the little one so tight, for a moment Bran thought a kraken had gotten him.

“No, honey. - Robb explained, putting some bath oil over the little arms – Kids should bathe only with their parents.”

Bran looked a bit disappointed, “But I want to bathe with Theon too. He plays nice.”

Theon gave a little smirk, “Didn't I earn a cute fan?”

Robb's glance ping-ponged between both of them: they both kind of looked like they would have had fun, Theon more or less hiding it under a smug expression.

“Well... there is a solution, actually.”

Theon glanced at him, “I'm not sure I'm ready to be a mom.”

“Good to see the sass is intact. - he snarked back, smiling, while turning on the shower head and testing the water warmth before passing it on Bran's hair to clean them from the foam – We could go to the pool, Sansa is going with Isolde lately to help her be less nervous around people.”

Theon was not sure what to say about that: Sansa over the years did keep a bit of contact with him, albeit him not being fully honest about stuff, and she did update him about the kid's situation, but briefly and mostly in dark times, and he was sure there were specific words he should have or should have not used, but he was absolutely not confident which ones; therefore, he just nodded.

Bran grinned under the waterfall, voice echoing and bubbling up, “We can swim in the pool!”

Theon gave a nervous grin, “I'm not so sure, I mean, bathing in pee doesn't sound like the most inviting perspective in the universe.”

“... why pee? - Bran turned to his father – Is the pool made of pee?”

Robb glared at Theon with a familiarity that made both of them feel a weird, pleasant sting, like a string in their heart played a warm melody, soft light filling them.

“No. - he chirped, cleaning Bran well and kissing his curls – Theon is trying to scare you because he can't swim.”

“I can swim, excuse you? - he grinned, fakley offended – I come from a seaside town.”

“ _Born in_ would be more correct and nobody bathes so much up north, Theon. - he smiled, pointy teeth on bottom lip, with that vaguely flirty gleam in his eyes – Also I’ve never seen you swim like ever.”

Bran turned to Theon, in shock, “You can't swim?”

“I can swim. - Theon replied, pinching Robb's arm – I just find it uncool: you get all wet, your hair gets messy, it disturbs the impression I'm trying to build...”

Bran frowned, about to say he was not sure he understood, but then he noticed again the two men were not really looking at him. He felt angry at first, until he saw his father laughing loudly, while Theon pinched him again at the remark he didn't grasp.

Then they got silent and even a bit red in the face and Theon made one of his pointy smiles and turned away to get him a bathrobe without looking – but still speaking? Weird – while his father stood up and grabbed it, putting it on all quickly.

It was the first time his father put the bathrobe on first before putting it on Bran. Not that he minded, but he was not sure why he would.

Theon put a big towel around little Bran, while his father was fastening the small one’s towel belt and they both looked for a smaller one for his hair.

Brandon smiled, seeing their hands touch over the towel: they both wanted him to be dry and warm and that felt good.

He refused his father's arms, stepping out of the bathtub and running towards his room by himself, sat on the bed and took a robot and a lion out of the toy chest, starting to play with them.

Robb was still in the bathroom with Theon, who started giving a quick wash to the bathtub and moving around towels, as if it were his home already – not that Robb minded, quite the contrary, also because Theon took a packet of dried flowers Sansa gave him months ago from a towel drawer, gave him a pitiful look and a sigh, cut the plastic open and put it in a little glass.

Robb blinked, “That's why stuff didn't smell any different.”

Theon chuckled, “You are really lucky you are cute.”

At that little comment, for how he tried, Robb couldn't hide a smile, “Am I cute?”, he asked, tad bit shy, half-jokingly, not looking towards Theon.

Theon smirked, lips curling up, and a tender look towards a not-staring back Robb, while in his most smug voice he snickered, “What is it, Stark? Fishing for compliments? - he mocked – How insecure can you be?”

Robb grabbed his waist, pulled him close and kissed him, again, in his mind.

In reality, he just moved towards him and said softly, “I... I liked sleeping together, it brought back the old times.”

Theon frowned, “Are you sure it's alright for Bran?”

“He doesn't know what sex is, so it's not like he can think anything bad about it. - he smiled, then frowned – He is fond of you, though.”

“Of course he is, - Theon chuckled – Who wouldn’t be?”

Robb's glance fell soft on Theon's hips, followed the lines of his ass and back, imagined the ones of his crotch, pressured on his chest and throat, opened his heart and legs.

Desire climbed all his veins and he felt electricity shaking his nerves raw.

“Who wouldn't be?”, he repeated, almost automatically, distracted.

Theon snorted, then gave a cocky grin and stared at Robb, “Are you imitating me or something?”

“I am serious.”

As he said it, Robb felt suddenly ashamed and turned to walk out of the room. He was hiding his face, steam making it redder, the fumes riding up mirrors in which he couldn't see himself.

Theon grabbed his wrist and made him turn.

He nailed his eyes onto Robb's, staring at him with the deepest, densest look.

“Only you. - he whispered, then correcting himself – Only you two, do like me.”

“That's not true...”, Robb started objecting, running already to defend Theon from himself.

But he put a finger on his soft lips, asking him for silence, then granted.

“It's enough for me, right now. - he promised, shaking his head slightly hut keeping a proud grin – Who needs someone else?”

Robb knew Theon was lying, needy as he was for human approval, especially from strangers like beautiful women or men in a situation of power over him.

At the same time, when he heard those words, he wanted them to be true.

And he took them as Theon had said them.

“I also don't need anybody else.”, he said, firmly, staring at Theon.

His smug smirk widened and he raised his eyebrows, knowingly.

“My oh my, what wouldn't you do to see me in trunks, Stark.”

 

*

 

Robb remembered how he had been rejected a bit too well, more than he wished.

Memory is a snarky bitch biting you during oral.

Robb remembered it started with him laughing, in Theon's car, and Theon giving him one of his smirks, sly and thin, and shaking his head before resting it against the seat. He was smoking, wasn't he? Marlboro Red, as always – he bought those because people said they were strong, Robb bought them because they reminded him of Theon. And they were so red.

The light of the cigarette is red and Robb swallowed, thinking “you are red, violent red”.

The darkness inside the car seemed sweeter.

Robb remembered how nervous he was, touching his hair and looking around, unable to stand Theon's smile that would cut through him, exposing his heart.

How he wanted him.

How he had dreamt of Theon for so long and so foolishly, so deeply... he was unsure if he even could dream of something else, and after they split and he married Jeyne, he stopped dreaming all together and it was just black nights.

He remembered outside it was cold, winter drizzling and fucking their bones for way too long that year and refusing to let go of the earth. Theon put his hand on the car heater, smiled at him – no, smirked, mischievous like a child – and handled him a bottle of something... what was it again? He didn't like it. Maybe Johnny maybe Jack maybe Bombay. He just remembered he chugged it down and gave him the bottle.

“So, what was that fight I witnessed? - he laughed – You and your mom? That's rare.”

“Eh. - Robb shrugged his shoulders – It was not really a fight, she is just getting insistent.”

Theon raised an eyebrow, he was so incredulous, he had never seen him contradicting his mom, because he never did fight with her, unless it was about him and he made sure not to in front of Theon anyway.

“For your standards, it is, momma’s boy. What is she so fixated upon?”

Robb sighed. “She wants me to bring Jeyne Westerling to the Winter Ball.”

Theon laughed so hard he almost chocked himself. And Robb wanted to kiss him.

It burnt inside him. He was so close.

“How dignified.”, Robb snarked instead, giving him a pinch.

Theon, coughing and clapping hysterically, blurted out “Oh my god, you two would be the most boring couple ever! I can imagine you two like this 50s style dollhouse couple, oh christ almighty.”

“Geez, thanks.”

“You need a girl who sets you lose, dude, not miss Catholic School with rules about the length of their socks.”

Ah, if that were only the problem! If just he could pretend and fool himself into thinking he could love a girl, he could want anyone else but Theon.

Robb groaned and shook his head, “Jerk.”

Theon lowered his eyes, and for an instant Robb thought he looked nervous, his mouth’s corners twitched up and down quickly and he bit his lips for a second.

“So... will you?”

“What?”

“Take her.”

“No. - Robb snorted – I mean, she is cute but...”

She was not Theon, she never was and never would have been.

His glance fell on Theon's arm, on his wrist and hand – bones, veins, muscles, hard corners and strong tips. No grace, no softness, no roundness. He looked at Theon's hands, so big, with the tense veins blue and big riding his bones and the knuckles out. He forced himself not to think about where he wanted that hand stroking him to hardness and beyond.

Theon's cigarette was almost just a crumble between his lips, hanging from them and Robb doesn't feel much more than that.

“... I won't, that's all.”

“Why?”

Theon's voice echoed inside him thick and dense, he almost felt it touching him, pulling him down, and he thought again about him, about them, fucking in that car under the moonlight – that, that would have been enough.

He just wished Theon could have loved him.

A fake smile, “You really don't know?”

Theon stared at him a bit, then lowered his eyes, bitter. He breathed out smoke, he lit a new cigarette without commenting, making Robb lick his bottom lip slowly.

His love was flooding and spilling out of him.

Theon pushed his hair back, in that way that showed his forehead as he lets out a thin cloud of smoke in the car. His lips were red and chapped from the cold winter air. And they looked so soft Robb could have drowned in them.

“You should hurry up and ask someone, though. - he chuckled, not looking at him – Or you'll end up going with me...”

Robb blinked, hopeful: did he just...?

A tilted smile kidnapped his lips, naive and furiously unstoppable. His eyes shone.

Theon wouldn't have joked about that, would he?

And, oh, suddenly, Theon was shyly avoiding looking at him, stubbornly staring away... oh, god, he must have meant it.

Robb remembered his teen heart racing. Robb remembered his teen heart ready to burst.

His ears caught in the din-dim of a drum.

His mind wandered off, full of hope, he barely could notice Theon's actions anymore, he just felt his lugs full of glitter, shining and floating, exploding in a weird joy... and Theon looked at him ready to smirk and Robb knew he would have denied that moment or played it off as a joke. As he always did. As he always did.

It was terrifying.

He slammed his lips against Theon's. He caught them, haunted them hungry and desperate like the kid he was. He remembered their softness and their taste for every night following. He parted slowly, trembling, scared for it to be unreal or to fade. He could feel his bottom lip tingle.

Theon was stiff, confused, horrified.

Then he pushed him against the side of the car, against the door, arm and elbow against the chest. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

For Theon's refusal, for his anger, for all the hope he tore apart.

“What the fuck!”

He screamed and spit and rubbed his lips clean. Clean of him. Clean of the kiss.

Robb stared, mouth half-open, words tied up and sown up inside someplace in his throat.

Why did he...?

“I, I'm sorry, I just...”

“You just what! - Theon shouted – Wasn't me fucking girls quite a sufficient proof of me not being a fucking faggot?”

“No... I, look...”

“I'm not! - Theon yelled, his chest swollen and then empty in seconds and then filled again like a frog’s while it’s getting a vivisection, he was terrified – I'm not.”

Terrified of being like me, Robb realized.

Being like him was scary and awful, wasn't it?

He wouldn't have wanted to be like that either, after all... a weirdo crumbled up and in love with his best friend.

“I am, though.”, Robb yelled too loud while fat, round tears filled his eyes up like a punch.

His lips trembled so much he feared they might fall off, he bit them to keep them in place.

“I'm sorry, I... - he laughed – Guess now you know why I didn't invite Jeyne Westerling to the ball.”

Theon paused to calm down, his glance ran on his friend, before quickly then slowly – it looked like a maybe suspended in the vast nothingness – as if Theon wanted to ask something, but couldn't dare.

Robb could easily guess: do you like other boys or only me? Are you really gay? Are you just really into me? How long have you grossly felt this faggotry towards me? Do you like jerk off to me? And other amazing variations.

But Theon was not sure either of what he wanted to ask, everything was so quick and spinny like a broken merry go round and he could feel his own heart pounding so strong as if it wanted to hollow his flesh and escape his ribcage, as if it wanted to rush to Robb and find peace inside him.

But... he couldn't want him, could he?

His father...

And then Theon said it and Robb felt himself cut to shreds and pieces.

Cut apart by that grin, sharp as a knife.

“Maybe you should. Maybe a good fuck with her will straighten you.”

Robb punched him and ran out of the car, without looking back, as if he could see anything behind all those tears blurring his vision. Theon stayed in the car, holding his hand on the nose spilling blood.

As it all fell apart, Robb kept running, he ran three kilometres or maybe a bit more, then he fell, exhausted, on the asphalt, crying, bowling out whines and screams.

He couldn't feel his heart anymore.

It was just all cramps and aching ruins falling asleep.

He, he was a ruin. A smoked out cigarette.

The morning after, he'd ask Jeyne to go out with him, he promised himself, while he bit his lips to blood and his cheeks burnt with the salt of his tears.

 


	4. 4. Sibylline

_**4\. Sibylline** _

 

* * *

 

 

She had eyes of hazelnut brown.

She had hair shining in the colour of caramel under the strong midday light.

She laughed soft and crystalline and her voice had the warmth of a Christmas choir in a candlelit church.

She was perfect.

And he never was.

But that never mattered anyway.

She smiled, holding him by the arm, “I can't believe your invited me. - she chirped – I, I was starting to think you didn't like me at all.”

And Robb is sure he smiled to her, shyly.

She told him he looked almost sad but that she interpreted it as modesty or embarrassment - “how stupid I was”, she cried out recalling it – or some sort of sudden childish pout, and as he daringly kissed her there, at the entrance, she didn't even notice Theon Greyjoy smoking near the windows.

The pines smelled like the sea and the air brought up a warmer breeze that reminded her of spring, it was a good time for a first kiss, she thought.

Robb took her arm again and led her in, forcing himself not to look at Theon smoking out with a couple of people he had never met before.

Jeyne's laugh echoed in his head swollen, distorted and round, like the thunder the waves make under the grey winter rains.

She was so pretty, her skin was like silk and her kisses shy and light.

She was a child at heart.

And he played with her, cruelly – not cruel out of evil intentions, not cruel out of malice, cruel out of carelessness, inattention, lack of... oh, isn't that malice too, after all? For him to take her and kiss her and drink up the way she smiled at him and feel all filled up by that love she felt? 

Wasn't cruel it too, to make her the perfect actress to a play she didn't sign up for? A play for him to act in and enjoy and believe in, and so his parents and so her.

He knew it was wrong.

He tried to stop many times, but it got harder.

How to tell her, after the morning she said, “I have to tell you something...” and told him how important he had ended up being?

How to tell her, after she had refused the best college in order to frequent his same one, making a smile so bright he could feel his heart rot?

How to tell her, when she cried, not understanding why his moods would only get worse as their anniversary approached or as his birthday was coming up?

How to tell her, after their families insisted in asking when they would have gotten married, and she smiled, staring at him, blinking in hope, sucking her lips like a child trying to make him tender – like Bran still did when he wanted an extra cookie – and held his hand, asking if he would have liked to?

How to tell her when his father died soon after he confessed to him he wanted a divorce and she couldn't grasp why beyond grief and sadness there was so much guilt and anger in his eyes?

How to tell her, after she got pregnant, and gave up her studies because of Bran?

“Are you sure, Robb?”

“Never been surer of anything in my life.”

“Can’t we wait a couple of years more?”

How to tell her after Bran was born, sucking at her breast, and she had found a job so inferior to what she studied for and tried to study at 3 am, when he finally fell asleep, but couldn't do much?

How to tell her after she gave it all up totally and smiled at him and Bran, as bright as the first day, saying “you two are all I need” ?

How to stop a stone that started rolling?

How to stop a stone you want to keep rolling?

Because that stone is all that keeps you from disappointing your family and that stone stops you from hating yourself and what you are... and because it's not like there was another way.

He would have faced his family, for Theon.

But not for himself.

For himself, he wouldn't have done anything.

So he sacrificed himself, pinning and nailing himself like a butterfly to a pretty album. And he did the same to Jeyne, driving small needles into her wings, stopping her from flying.

Needles of kisses.

One, after the other.

For years.

He tried to convince himself he loved her and would have loved her always, but he was a child, afraid to see his mother's contempt and his father's disappointment.

How to tell her he had been just that selfish? The boy she had fallen in love with for being so selfless and kind?

There was nothing selfless in him, really.

He acted as he did in order to be loved.

He always gained that from being selfless.

And if you are gaining something, be it money or your mother kissing you despite your sinful soul, then you are not selfless, are you?

“Jeyne – I, I have to tell you something...”

She was ironing, that day.

He remembered, because for a moment, he thought she would have burnt his face with the iron and, to be fair, he wouldn't have blamed her. He was sure he would have deserved that.

“What's wrong, dear?”

 

*

 

“What's wrong, Robb?”

Robb blinked and seemed to wake up just then from his mind. He let out a small groan and turned towards Theon, handing him a cup of coffee.

“Sorry, I guess I was still sleepy?”

Theon frowned, “Did I move too much?”

“No, no. - Robb granted in a smiled away lie – It was just a bit cold outside.”

“I see...”

Bran stared at the coffee, “Can I have some too?”

“This is for grown-ups, baby. - Robb obliged, ruffling his hair and kissing it – And trust me, when you'll need this, you'll miss chocolate milk a lot.”

Theon shook his head, putting sugar on the table, “Or you'll become a fully functional adult, capable of surviving without children’s food.”

“Sorry, Theon, not all of us can live off of seaweed and sheer will like you.”

Bran blinked, impressed, eyes shining, “You don't eat? Like a vampire?”

Theon shook his head, “I eat, it's just your dad that doesn't understand adults can eat veggies without complaints.”

Robb mocked him for a moment, then his mind drifted away again, noticed by Theon.

 

*

 

“How could you? - Jeyne asked, eyes filled with tears – How, how could you?”

“I don't know!”, Robb shouted, sorry, but unable to look like he’s anything else than panicked.

He tried to hold her hand but she moved away.

“You, you are.... what? How could you tell me now?”

“Jeyne, listen, please, understand... - he seemed near tears – I never meant to hurt you.”

She seemed to believe him. Her smile rose again, trembling, forced, but willing to understand.

She breathed in, “Since when have you known? - she asked – Did... did you realize recently? Could it be just some doubt?”

Robb's mouth fell open, his jaw heavy.

“Since, since a while.”

“A while?”, she frowned and her eyebrows twitched and she moved away as if he had scorched her.

Robb looked away, “I tried to repress it, I did, I... I've been seeing a psychologist about this and-”

“Wait, wait, wait. - now she stared at him with a fire he had never seen before in her eyes – You talked to a doctor? Multiple times? And didn't think about sharing this with me?”

“I know I was wrong, Jeyne, but-”

“Since when, Robb.”

Robb swallowed dryly, unsure of what to reply. He knew the answer but he couldn't bring himself to admit up to which point he had hurt her, up to which point he had been careless and involved her in an experiment of repressing and changing himself.

Jeyne sat down on the sofa, breathing in, “Just... tell me it was after Brandon.”

Robb shivered, “I don't get it?”

She breathed in, “Tell me you didn't know before, because that... that I could not...”

And he wanted to lie again.

And this time he should have had, for her.

And this time he really, really, should have had.

But truth once spilt, flows quickly, crosses borders and destroys everything on its journey, like a river throwing itself into the sea as soon as the valley bends down. Truth poured out of him, uncomfortable, hurtful, and threw them both from the edge of themselves.

“I had... - Theon, he had wanted to say, but he felt so stupid and horrible – I had a person I liked before you.”

“A boy?”

“A boy.”

She stared into the void, nodding, silently, sucking her lips, for a long time, then only a whisper came out, drenched, stretched, wrecked.

“... you knew I didn't want him.”

“Jeyne, - he threw himself on his knees in front of her, holding her hands – I understand how you feel, but...”

“Do you? - she shouted, slapping his hand away – Did your husband insist on a child and then turned out saying he is gay?”

“I thought he would have made everything alright between us!”, Robb cried out.

She tilted her head, confused, frowning. He was being honest.

Did he really think something so stupid?

Robb panted, “I just... I just wanted to love you right and have this life with you and not be myself and not... I didn't want to love... - Theon. He couldn’t say. - ...men. I, I wanted you. I love you, I do, and I thought we just needed a family for it to work again.”

Jeyne blinked, cupping Robb's face with her hands and staring at him with an unexplainable tenderness beyond all the anger staining her lips.

Her voice came out sharp and rough, but there was sweetness in it.

“Robb, these are not things we can change.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks.

He was red all over and desperate, his eyes watery and he kept sniffling, his lip trembling, while his voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

“Why not?”

She held him tight, almost falling on him, caressing his hair, “I don't know, honey... I don't know...”

“I'm sorry... - he sobbed, against her long pale neck, hidden in her collarbones – I am a monster.”

“You are not... - she promised – You were so afraid of being that you made a big... big... - she forced herself not to cry and stared at a ceiling – A big mess.”

Robb bit his lips.

Was he going to lose everything now? Would that have cost him the wife he had considered his dearest friend and his son? Was that how it was going to go?

“...will you take him away?”

Jeyne shook her head, soundly, before sighing, “No, but... I don't think I'll be able to see him for a while...”

Robb's eyes widened in fear.

How would have he explained it to him? How lonely would have he felt? 

His child.

Would he have felt like him; like people would have left him if he'd be himself?

“You are his mother, Jey, he-”

She seemed to try to not get angry, but her mouth twitched slightly, as she breathed in.

“I love him, Robb, but... I did have a child for you, and now I am not sure how to look at him. - her eyes swelled up in tears – I don't think I can be a good mom with this... amount of... grunge sitting on my chest.”

Robb nodded, licking his lips, biting them, and caressing her hand as if it were sacred silk.

“... How about you finish your studies? I'll take care of him. - he promised – And, then, when you feel ready, you will return.”

“He'll hate me.”

“I won't let him. - he smiled – I won't ever say anything bad about you, Jeyne, I could not... do that to you.”, he promised as if he had not done worse.

Jeyne forced herself to smile at him and kissed her husband's forehead for one last time.

 

*

 

“And then Frodo and the power rangers defeat Barbie.”, he explained, convincing.

Theon nodded though it all, unsure of how to process all the information of that weirdly fascinating version of the Lord of The Rings that Brandon had given birth to, throwing in a civil war of stuffed toys and a very dark explanation as to why Power Rangers are not human beings for real.

The kitchen table was a little battle field and on it were scattered many toys.

“I see... - he then said, having lost the point a while ago – You really love complicated stories, don't you?”

He grinned.

“Yes!”

“I bet when you grow older, you'll read a lot of books.”

He seemed to shrug, “But in books things don't get to happen! - he smiled, his face all bright – If I take it, move it, you can see it.”

Theon smiled, thinking he had a little director or actor right there.

He remembered when, young, he wanted to go to the city and do theatre.

Before Ramsay took his pride and bent his soul and cracked it, pissing on the shattered pieces.

Now that he had put himself back together, he could still feel his laugh between the cracks, slimy and cold.

He felt barely able to keep all the pieces together at times and like the wind, that voice would creep in and make him tremble like a broken window poorly patched up by duct tape. Other days, he just felt elated to be free, to be able to walk, to eat, to think, to be himself.

It felt almost impossible, at first.

Choosing to think.

Choosing to be alive.

He could grab a cup of coffee, if he pleased, go out of a house, return when he wanted.

He could chose whether or not to have sex.

… he could not be hurt.

His glance fell on the scar on his arm, one could see the little cuts, like bite marks, left by the bottle he had broken in half, then he rode on his hand, on the lines thin and light left by cuts, of the razors and knives, and the cuts on the fingers, embracing his flesh like a ring or an ox yoke; then only his mind reached his neck, the shoulder, where he knew he had once bit so strong Theon had bled out and then he extinguished cigarettes over his skin to brand him “as the little nice cow you are”.

He puked slightly in his mouth.

Bran stared at him, concerned.

“Do you have a belly ache?”

Theon blinked, focusing again on reality. “He cleared up his voice, “No, I just...”

“If you are sick we shouldn't go to the pool. - he stated, very serious, then sad – But I wanted to go...”

Theon ruffled Bran's hair, “I said I'm fine, small thing.”

Bran grabbed his hand, “You promise?”

“I promise. - Theon grinned, almost snorting – Why do you think I'd lie?”

Bran is not left with time to reply, as his father appeared behind him and grabbed him, raising him, shouting “Alien abduction!”. Bran gasped and started laughing, grabbing him down and kissing his cheek, laughing again at the little stubble teasing him.

“Who is the lucky boy who has been selected for the space abduction program?”

“Me!”, Bran shouted.

“And where is the abduction going?”

“To the pool!”

“Correct. - he confirmed, dropping the prepared bag on the table and then glancing at Theon – I packed some of my stuff for you.”

Theon smiled, “Thank you for sparing me from going to my family.”

Robb winked, “Always available for these things.”

Bran stared a long while, without commenting, but he had noticed how softer his dad's touch was on him lately, how less nervous he looked. The little wrinkles between the eyes barely arrived those days.

He understood very little of grown-ups: they never said what they wanted, they never asked, they never just did things. But that his dad was happy, that he could understand.

“Aunt Sansa and Isolde will be here soon. - Robb granted, kissing Bran's cheek and then putting him on his seat again – Would you maybe go to your room and pick the toys to bring?”

“Five?”

“Maximum three. - Robb laughed – You don't want to lose them.”

“But I can't choose just three!”

“I'm sure you can. And if you don't lose them, next time you can bring four.”

Bran seemed convinced by this treaty and ran to his room to find the toys for the pool.

Robb sat on the previously occupied chair with a big sigh of relief.

“A moment alone, could it be?”, he half-laughed.

He said it to Theon but while staring at the ceiling, as if he were ashamed or wanted to make sure he was not put in an embarrassing position.

Theon appreciated that and sighed, “I'm sorry if tonight I annoyed you.”

Robb didn't dare look at him, afraid Theon could catch his thoughts.

“I liked it, actually.”

“Really?”, Theon chuckled, as if he couldn't believe it.

“Yeah. - a heartfelt deep breath – It felt like... the old times.”

Theon looked at Robb, but upon seeing he was still looking at the ceiling, his glance fell away, weakly.

“I’ve missed you, Theon.”

Theon let out a half chocked laugh as if something stood there, bitter and uncomfortable in his chest and didn't allow him neither to hope nor believe.

Robb's hand was then on his own.

“I mean it. - he said, and Theon heard Robb clearing his voice, but he couldn't move his eyes from the hand, wrapping his, protectively and possessively all together – I’ve missed you, so much.”

Theon sucked his lips, then raised his eyes and met Robb's cerulean lagoons, staring at him as if there was nothing prettier in the world.

Has he ever owned a mirror, Theon wondered.

“Robb, I-”

“Me first. - Robb almost shouted, emotions making him bright, his eyes shiny but his cheek flushed – Please, because, if you stop me now I'm not sure when I will be again not enough awkward to be honest.”

Theon nodded, weakly, without realizing he was now holding Robb's hand too.

“Then, say it.”, he mumbled, almost without noticing.

Robb's look fell on Theon's long eyelashes, on his hair so soft, on the jaw, still so sharp but somehow now bent in a tenderer smile than his usual smug smirks.

As if Theon's heart was as hesitant as his own.

“When I... when I went out with Jeyne, I made a big mistake. - he whispered, dryly – Not because of marriage or because of Bran, god, he... he... - Robb bent his head – He is the best thing in the universe, I could never... live without him. - he teared up – But I hurt her. I hurt her by not being honest about how I felt, what I was. I lied to myself for years just to... get over my sexuality and it was horrible and cruel.”

Theon held his hand stronger, “It's not your fault, if I hadn’t rejected you like that, you-”

“But you had every right to. - Robb was smiling, but Theon could feel his heart crumbling in guilt – You... surely were indelicate, but I was irresponsible and I had no right to hurt her. And I don't want to repeat my mistakes.”

Theon's look seemed almost desperate, but Robb was not sure of why or how.

“I, - he started again, holding Theon's hand – Before I was thinking about it, Theon... I am responsible for my mistakes and I don't want you to ever feel guilty again for that night at the parking lot. - he laughed – I shouldn't have confessed, knowing that you were s...”

And Theon, well, was Theon.

And Theon was fond of very bad decisions.

Theon had that terrible tendency, in any situation, to always throw himself into the worst possible plan available to him and then so on, at every turn, in a series of extremely gut-oriented, terribly reckless and poorly-thought out decisions.

And that was most definitely an extremely gut-oriented, terribly reckless and poorly-thought out decision.

To kiss Robb like that. Out of the blue.

In the living room, with his kid possibly coming back at any second, while he was about to forgive him and they would have started their friendship again... really, a terrible, terrible plan.

But his lips pressed against Robb's almost drawn by magnets, unable for him to stop. He just felt fire and then the need, the spring, to be against him.

And so he kissed him.

Just a peek, really.

Maybe his first not French kiss since he was thirteen.

As he parted he looked down, unable to bring himself to cross glances with Robb, his lips still agape, whimpering, his breath all quivered up in a shiver.

Robb grabbed his wrist, stopping him, and then, as their eyes finally met, Theon didn't have the time to decode the look he was receiving: Robb brought him back against him in a kiss, this time mouth open, ardent, their hungry mouths quickly agape and searching for each other’s, tongues whipped one against the other, twirling, invading. Theon could feel Robb's hand against his head and he almost cried.

God, he felt like he had always dreamt.

God, it felt like he had always feared.

It was Theon to move away, slowly though, trembling. He looked like a dog expecting a broom to hit him over the head.

Robb's hand caressed his hair and cheek, moved to his lips, brushed them with the thumb.

“What just...?”, he was about to ask, and his eyes were terrified at the idea of it breaking, but his mouth couldn't stop the sweetest of smiles.

Theon sucked his lips and bit them.

“I was an asshole too. - he let out, with a little grin turning into a sob – I was scared.”

“What? - Robb shook his head, then his hands went on Theon's shoulders, he was not sure how to – What are you...?”

Theon looked away, licked his lips and closed his eyes, bitterly wounded.

“I was afraid to like you too. - he breathed in, furrowing his eyebrows, expecting to be kicked out, he shook his head – I was a coward and an asshole. My dad... he... he wouldn't have ever...”

Robb at first looked angry.

Theon could spot his thoughts, almost:  _my mom wouldn't have either, but together we could have managed, oh was I not worth it?, so you broke my heart for nothing?, it could have been us against the world, I am so disappointed_ .

Robb was rarely angry. He had the tendency to bottle up, like a tea kettle and then explode pretty randomly at the minor inconvenience that was the last drop, more than for serious things.

But nothing happened.

“Why... - Robb seemed then calmer, as if he had decided to see it differently, to allow Theon a way – Why did you never tell me after?”

Theon avoided looking at him, then he glanced at Bran's room.

Robb could see something was bothering him, that there was something, something he needed to say.

Theon then laughed bitterly, he smirked, shook his head and tilted his head, grinning, his eyes dark.

“Because why would you have wanted to see me again, Robb? - his grin was ghastly, his chuckle melted iron – I don't get how you didn't hate me.”

“I couldn't hate you, because I love you. - Robb said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world – I couldn't have not even if I tried.”

Theon couldn't seem to focus on those words.

They didn't make sense to him.

Robb's eyes were about to tear up.

“Are you really... just like me?”

Theon nodded, paralyzed, deer in the headlights – Robb stood up from the chair and walked to him, then kneeled down and collected his courage.

It was something hard to ask, whatever it was.

“...are you just... trying to make me happy?”

Theon let out a dry laugh, “Have I ever done anything for someone else?”

Robb smiled, sucked his lips and seemed about to get close, when the bell rang, making him trip behind and crash on the floor. Theon stood up, bent, trying to help, Bran escaped his room shouting happily, chanting, “Izzie, Izzie!”. 

Theon stared at the little missile almost tripping on the carpet and instead managing to run better than his dad could manage to get up from the floor.

Bran jumped in front of the door and hung on the knob, pulling it, letting inside Sansa, bringing way too many bags for a pregnant woman, so Theon immediately moved to help, while noticing with the tail of his eyes, Robb standing up and looking at his hands, smiling.

Theon blinked.

He knew that smile on Robb.

It hurt to fall. He didn't wake up. It was not a dream.

Robb smiled again, brighter, closed his eyes, sucked his lips, looking down, then up, shaking his head slightly.

Theon felt a bit breathless in realizing someone could be so happy due to him.

Him.

Someone giving him value.

That seemed so impossible.

_After all, you're worthless, aren't you, Theon?_

He shivered, pushing back the nausea that fucked his mouth and left the aftertaste of his disgusting cum all over his tongue. He forced himself to smile.

“May I help you miss?”, he asked, with a smirk.

Sansa smiled as a mom would at a silly boy, “My oh my, aren't we the flirt, as soon as I'm not an accompanied woman.”

“But of course, I still have eyes.”

“You are lucky I don't take you seriously or you'd better have a pregnancy kink. - she sighed, turning around to look for Robb, while handing Theon the heavy pool bag – My hormones are destroying me.”

“Tyrion is a lucky man.”, he said, smiling.

Sansa pinched his cheek, then went towards Robb, who was rubbing his jeans nervously trying to... Clean... Clean himself? From what? Sansa smirked.

“Wolfie.”

He turned to her and hugged her, gently, making sure not to squish, prudent of that to him almost sacred, swollen belly. Theon shook his head, unsure he could have ever understood that.

She glowed with joy and kissed his cheek.

“Wolfie.”, Robb replied to the salute.

“It's good to see you. - she smiled – So, how is it going here?”

Bran interrupted Sansa, pulling her skirt, “Where is Izzie?”

“Oh, sweetcakes. - she smiled, kissing his cheek – I'm sorry baby, Izzie was very stubborn and wanted to stay in the car, we can say hi when we go down, hm? Is it okay?”

Brandon seemed disappointed, but accepted it, just with a sigh, “I wanted to show her my toys. - then a little idea gleamed in his eyes – But daddy said I could take only three.”

Sly, Theon noticed, that must have been Jeyne. He thanked her silently.

Robb was always a tad bit too naive.

“Three is more than enough.”, Robb insisted.

Sansa tilted her head, not convinced, then whispered, “You can put an extra one in my purse, hm? So we can show Isolde and we won't lose it, hm?”

Theon wondered if kids really did lose toys so often, he never had so many to allow himself the luxury to.

Theon leaned for a moment on the couch, a weird dizziness taking over him, but fought it back as Bran held onto his leg and started jumping, asking if they could start going down.

With a panicked look, Theon seemed to ask permission and... neither Sansa nor Robb seemed worried about leaving him alone with the kid? What?

Sansa curled up her lips knowingly, “It seems like a good plan. - she gives him the keys – I'll discuss a moment with Robb some family stuff.”

 

*

 

Isolde was what a lot of people would have called a problematic child.

Of course, those people would have been more or less shred to pieces by Sansa and Tyrion's verbal swords. If Sansa had always been candid, she truly showed her most protective side since becoming a mother and Tyrion never skipped in his life an occasion to make a snarky remark.

Isolde came as a surprise, while they were in that part of their relationship where Sansa was not sure how to tell her parents she fell in love with a professor at her University and Tyrion was absolutely annihilated by the fear of hurting someone so much purer and younger than him.

She... happened.

And Sansa couldn't have been more radiant and happy.

Some other mothers, for some reason, didn't seem to share her joy in Isolde.

Because she was not as one would expect, and that was somehow truly sad to them.

Sansa was never sorry or sad about Isolde being different; she worried when she refused to eat or when she'd cry without an apparent reason or when she'd scratch and yell desperately or when she'd cover her ears due to the tinniest of noises. She was worried, but she wouldn't have changed her nor did she ever feel like she had been stripped of something other mothers had.

Isolde didn't play with her, but she knew how to distinguish twenty shades of red.

Isolde didn't dance with them, but she would draw better than anyone in her class.

Isolde didn't always come to her yelling she loved her mom, but Sansa knew she did from how, when they were alone in the house, sitting together on the couch, Isolde would sometimes even without making eye contact smile in her direction, forcefully as she could, because she was trying really hard to imitate and make sure Sansa would understand she was happy.

And Sansa couldn't have asked for anything more.

When people felt pity for her, she'd just feel pity for them back, because they thought kids would come with little conditions to apply and that one may become disappointed if they didn't fit a premade description of a product.

Isolde at night would stare at her star stickers, glowing greenish on the ceiling, not focusing the look anywhere clear and yet, somehow, seeming able to grasp all the beauty of it and put it inside her chest.

Sansa was sure that to her those stars were more than plastic little lights.

They were the sign her parents, although they couldn't understand her that well, would always guard over her in the dark.

Theon couldn't truly get that, because his father would have never accepted it. He couldn't imagine the idea of him loving him if he had discovered he had any kind of syndrome.

He never accepted him when he was a kid drawing instead of playing football.

He never accepted him when he was trying to study instead of punching things.

He never accepted him even as Theon started fucking around, drinking too much and letting his marks drop, trying to be like his brothers, hoping to catch some of his love, some of his approval.

Balon Gryejoy was no Sansa Stark.

And, for that, Theon could hardly conceive that a parent so loving and accepting would exist.

Alannys, Alannys loved him, he was sure, but he could barely remember how she was before losing it, by then. She had forgotten him long before she could have got to completely know him.

When they arrived to the car, a very shining, grey ford, with pretty clean mirrors and funny parental stickers on the back (must have been Sansa's idea, it was hard to imagine Tyrion picking bunnies saying there were babies on board), Theon was sure Isolde would have started to scream and go away, scared, instead she didn't even turn to them.

She kept drawing very intensely, focused.

She was good... at least like kids two or three years older.

Theon blinked, impressed.

But Brandon grinned and exclaimed, “Izzie, that's so super cool!”

She didn't turn but nodded, very slowly.

He sat in the car next to her, staring at it.

“Can I keep it when you finish?”, he asked.

As she nods again, Brandon seemed about to clap his hands, instead stopped himself, remembering loud noises were not his little cousin's favourite thing in the universe, like at all.

Theon observed them, even studied them in a way, unsure of how to grasp kids.

He smoked a bit, sitting on the front seat, waiting for Robb and Sansa to come down. The bitter scent of the cigarette reminded him of his father's scent, his belt, his bony knuckles.

How can you love so much someone who leaves you bruised and wobbled up with your heart a mess?

Theon was not sure.

But he loved him once and he loved him twice.

One time he was his father and he'd slap him against the stairs, one time it was his father in the body of someone else and would drive a bottle of wine in his arm.

Love sucks, doesn't it?

Then he remembered, like a tingle, Robb's kiss on his lips.

How it felt.

Dawn and sparkles and hope.

He smiled against the smoke, then he threw it away, and as Robb came down, holding both the bags, Sansa glanced at him as if she knew something was up.

Theon hoped Robb had not told everything.

He was not sure he would have managed the pressure of part of the Stark family knowing about every move he'd make, maybe thinking that Robb deserved better. Well, maybe Sansa wouldn't have …

Robb opened the door and entered and Theon moved close, whispering in his ear.

“Hey, did you...?”

“No. - he smiled, looking away – I didn't want her to jump to conclusions before we can even discuss properly.”

Theon thanked god, it seemed like Robb did grow up a bit, at least.

Robb moved his hand, signalling to Theon and Theon brushed his own against it. Holding it would have felt like a bit too much, but he did caress it.

“So, - Sansa smiled, turning on the engine – Are you all ready for the swimming pool?”

Bran was the only one to actually say a yes of a strong reply, but Robb faked it by adding a very long 's' at the end and Theon and Isolde shared a not-looked not-commented pity for the unnecessary noises of love that filled the earths of those three.

It was not until they arrived at the pool that Theon realized he was supposed to spend the whole day next to a half-naked Robb who he had just confessed to.

Well, something or the other was gonna be hard.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank everyone who commented and say sorry for the slight delay, these were very proving days. Isolde's condition is the same as a member of my family, but I don't think I'll name out loud the specific syndrome in the next chapter unless it feels to you readers necessary and it feels confusing otherwise. Let me know about this, in case. A big hug to all of you and thank you for your kindness!


	5. 5. Satiate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter more or less took me an eternity, because it also had a couple scenes that are very hard to digest. I am sadly aware they may be triggering for some, and hopefully they'll be cathartic for at least one of you as it was cathartic for me to let it out, but if you are triggered by even slight rape depictions or mentions, it may been a good idea to skip the final part of the chapter (from after the shower scene). Again I'm sorry for the delay, it was just a heavy thing to write out.

 

**_5\. Satiate_ **

 

* * *

 

 

Theon let out a moan, mouth open in bliss.

“God– finally.”

Robb chuckled, “Really, now? Is it that good?”

Theon nodded, closing his eyes and lowering himself, adjusting his position.

“This bubble massage thing is the best thing ever.”, he mumbled, letting out a relaxed sigh.

Robb smiled, lying next to the small bubble pool, exhausted after he had to swim and splash with not one but two kids, one of which had zero control over her splashes and very little concept of “too much” - but she was so cute, and Bran was always well-mannered enough to stop if he saw him struggle. He loved to swim, but he discovered being a parent often deprives you of a certain amount of energy, because kids are way faster, quicker and more electric than any adult and they won't stop until they are completely tired down.

He rolled slightly on his side, staring at Theon, softly.

His eyes seemed to have found their place.

He smiled and elongated his neck, kissing Theon's ear softly. He almost snuggled in it, like a puppy.

Theon felt his heart clench and sting.

He remembered kicking that puppy right in the heart. Squishing his heart until it was flat and staring at the blood gushing out.

He threw him in the arms of a girl whom they both hurt so deeply …

And now that selfish happiness seemed ready to unlock between their fingertips, like the trembling spring breeze, fresh as rain over the scorching heat of ending summers and as desperate as the first flower to exit the burdening suffocating roof of snow.

It looked like, for a moment, he could win it all, despite everything. He broke a heart and got it back with no price tag attached?

Or had he already paid it?

Was it in the teeth marks that got infected around his hips a year before?

Was it in the spider web of scars on his back for him to get drowned into?

Was it in the time he lost and the dignity he broke like a knee, like an ankle that just twists and you are left on the concrete by yourself because your brothers ran away from you laughing?

How did that song go again?  _Let them bleed, let them wash away_ ?

He had tried to, but they always stayed and hardened on his skin.

You can wash away sperm, blood, you can let bruises vanish and scars white out. You can't wash away a laugh: it sits between your bones, cracks its way between your muscles and organs and builds a home in your veins. And there hardens, and there rots.

And that, that Theon feared now.

For Robb to see through him, to make a quick autopsy with those eyes of his that always grasped him a little too well for his taste, and find out all of his flesh was infected by little worms the color of cold, thin ice.

The color of his eyes.

“Blue eyes” made him laugh, because he couldn't imagine two more different colours than Robb's blue and his one. Robb's was warm, like summer skies and a laughing pool, Ramsay was just ice, almost transparent, hard and sharp.

They made his skin look ever worse: pale with red scars and puffing magenta with every effort, he looked like a boiling kettle moving during sex. Theon can almost remember how it felt. How he felt. No wonder he had to hurt his partners with his hands, considering the very little feeling allowed by something else.

… he almost laughed as he noticed he allowed himself to think that.

If he dared give Ramsay the vaguest idea he had those kinds of thoughts, he would have probably kicked him into castration. Theon was always surprised he never took away anything, actually, considering he had that middle-ages torturer of the inquisition vibe all over.

Probably he thought hurting him was funnier and taking away fingers would have soon deprived him of the pleasure of breaking them under his boots or by twisting them.

Maybe he feared that would make him snap out of the enchanted cage.

He sure didn't predict he would have for a girl.

“She's our new playmate, say hello. Be a good boy.”

She was so small, Theon was sure she could have broken apart if Ramsay tried to do to her what he was doing to him. She looked like a lost, skinny mouse ready to shatter from her own trembling.

And then a terrible awareness sunk into Theon.

She was about Sansa's age.

And the thought made him puke inside his mouth.

And then her eyes, they were the same as his own – someone who, somehow, ended up at the edge of their own bones and lost any idea of what home meant.

He remembered fucking her with his tongue, with Ramsay pushing his head down in there, while sinking into his ass. He remembered how she came just to then cry harder.

That night, Ramsay slapped her enough for her to lose some teeth and have her face swollen up as an air balloon.

And her body looked even smaller.

“Follow me.”, he told her.

Her hand was so tiny, her wrist so thin, he was sure, so sure – he would have ruined her too. Maybe he already did.

“Theon. - Robb frowned, almost offended – Are you even here?”

“Sorry. - a chuckle, a grin – If you want me to be attentive, you have to do better.”

“Really now?”, Robb grinned, biting his lips, charmed.

 

*

 

“One would think you'd suck at math, and here you are, destroying stereotypes.”, Robb chuckled, staring down at Theon's marks.

The highest being art, theatre and math.

Theon shrugged, “It's just school.”

“You didn't study. - Robb pointed out – These marks, these fucking great marks were the result of no effort. Imagine if you put yourself into it again, as you once did.”

“For what?”, he chuckled, bitterly.

“For your future?”

Theon shook his head and Robb bit his lips.

He knew Theon thought he had none. He knew Theon never considered of them sharing one.

 

*

 

Brandon's laugh reminded him of Robb's, somehow.

From their childhood, he remembered quite little, but he remembered always how bright and crystalized Robb's laugh was.

He wondered if it was because he was his son or because all happy children have the same laugh.

Which part did he miss? Which fragment was the key?

Brandon hugged Isolde tight, letting her go as soon as he seemed displeased with the constriction, then, almost mortified, ran to his bag and gave her the rubber lamb. “It has a pink ribbon. - he explained – You like pink.”

Isolde seemed convinced and put the lamb underwater, bringing it up and down.

Theon looked at Robb, who was controlling them from where they were. 

He raised an eyebrow, “Do I say it or do you say it?”

“Theon, don't make breath play jokes about my niece.”, Robb warned, trying to suffocate a smile.

“Waterboarding jokes?”

Robb snorted, then turned to him, fakely scandalized, “Theon!”

“What? - Theon grinned – She has a future with it.”

Sansa heard the two of them laugh and smiled, while sitting in the children’s pool with the two kids, now very curious about whether little lamb and blue squirrel could survive the terrible challenge of the Red Slide. She felt in her heart light, as if the days spent came back and somehow a second chance was allowed to those two.

She prayed for it, at times, in her heart.

Tyrion would have maybe laughed at her for it, sometimes – her husband was unable to believe and she was too for a long time, when things started crumbling in front of her. But she always held, if not faith, a sensation that hope would have led somewhere, that good things would have come if they just would have not let that hope die. Religion was a part of their family when they were kids and, despite losing a lot of those certain rules with age and the academic studies and what happened to Robb and her father, Sansa couldn't brush off an optimistic, deeply-rooted sense of safety that somehow things, one day, would have gone better. 

She was sure, if god existed, they'd have loved Robb all the same and just wished him and Theon to finally find their rhythm to dance happily to instead of clashing. 

“Bran, do you like dad's friend?”

“Theon? - he blinked and smiled – Theon is cool!”

She kissed Isolde's head as she started climbing the Slide backwards with the rubber lamb, and she kept a hand some millimetres from her back, making sure not to touch her but to be ready to grab her if anything were to happen.

“Ah-a, I agree.”

“I hope he stays.”, he mumbled under his breath, ravelling words in his mouth.

Sansa sighed, staring at them and at Brandon.

“I hope so too, honey.”

Robb kept laughing loudly, while Theon made his usual jokes, in between vulgar and black, his self-esteem riding on how pained Robb looked, hands pressing on his stomach, while trying to keep a sort of dignity and failing.

Oh, he loved to make him laugh.

He always did.

Theon moved closer, raising his head and Robb grinned, denying him a kiss, moving away. Theon looked annoyed, almost vexed, and pouted, frowning, until he saw Robb entered with him in the bubble tub.

“ Now, where were we?”, he asked, closing his eyes and bowing over Theon, catching his lips in his own.

Theon closed his eyes too, smiling into the kiss and then smiling more as he could feel Robb doing the same against his lips. He pulled him down by the nape and deepened the kiss, his tongue inside the soft, hot cave of the mouth, savouring the taste, devouring the eagerness brimming in them. Robb's hands held Theon's waist.

He saw some scars before, but didn't ask. He was sure it fell in the category of things Theon was going to tell him, one day, as he'd feel safer – for sure, for sure, if he had asked, he wouldn't have received a lie, but he wanted to let him have the time to feel he could.

And yet, the way one arched like a hook, near his nipple, creeped him out.

It looked like the echo of a burden Theon was not ready to share.

But Robb was possessive and very bad at not worrying.

He pushed more, pushing thoroughly and fully into Theon's mouth, gaining a moan, which he sipped and gulped like all the other to follow. He got drunk on the way Theon's skin shivered against his under the water.

His hand moved, slowly, as if it were magnetized, descending on Theon's hips, circled his leg and reached his groin. Theon stiffened and his eyes jerked open.

Robb's hand moved away.

Right, Theon got reminded, that was an option.

“Sorry, got... carried away.”, Robb said, embarrassed, lowering his head, eyes shining.

Theon hid the fear that rode his back.

“It's fine, just... - an excuse, quick – Sure, there is almost nobody but... it's a public place and...”

Robb chuckled, “Has Theon become a prude?”

“Have you become an exhibitionist?”, Theon snarked back, sticking his tongue out.

Robb shook his head, pouting, hiding a vague embarrassment with a laugh, “As I said, got carried away. Also, usually this stuff happens in dreams so nobody is traumatized by it.” “Robb Stark. - Theon raised his eyebrows, amused – Did you dream of fucking me?”

Robb blinked, unflinching, “How did you think I spent my teen years, exactly?”

Theon opened his mouth, shocked, “You said you liked Shannen Doherty!”

“Shut up! I thought it was clearly a lie by now! - he seemed shy and looked away, still laughing – You used to jerk off to Kate Winslet. Honestly.”

“Excuse me, have you seen her boobs.”

“Gosh you and boobs. - Robb shook his head, before amused, then a little thought sank deep – You...”

Theon kissed him, quickly, his hand caressing Robb's sculpted chest, with soft auburn hair the color of autumn.

“This is very nice too.”, Theon grinned, sinking then his tongue again into Robb's mouth.

He searched for his flavor and breathed in his scent.

He felt good against him. He felt so stupid for having had a slight panic over a touch.

What had gotten into him all of a sudden?

Robb grabbed Theon's wrist and parted from the kiss.

“... am I the exception or...?”

Theon let out a chuckle, “Is it important?”

“For me, a lot.”, Robb admitted, his voice like marble.

Theon's lips trembled.

“I told you I... - he was not sure anymore which lies he had told and which truths and how much he let out – I had a thing in a movie but... I already knew I liked you I just...”

“But... - Robb cleared his voice – In... real life there was never a... man?”

And Robb was terrified Theon to not actually be sure.

And Robb was terrified of the idea of Theon saying both yes or no.

And Theon knew he couldn't tell him about Ramsay, not yet.

“...no, nobody. - and in a way he was not sure if this would have pleased Robb's possessive side or make him fear more, so he sighed, adding – It had to be you.”

Robb smiled, a smile of paperglass and light.

And Theon knew he was playing with fire and that he may have bruised both of them just a bit too much.

Robb was bright and Theon, Theon always felt a bit too much like a black hole.

“It had to be me, huh?”

Theon grinned, then closed his eyes and left a soft kiss on Robb's plump lips, holding his face in his palms, pressing against him softly.

He remembered the first time he wished to kiss Robb.,,

 

*

 

His laugh echoed in the room, sparkling and light.

Summer winds shook the glass of the windows and the gentle shadows of the trees, letting little bright dots of light shine and dance on the surfaces. They were near the TV on Robb's bed, watching some stupid movie he forgot.

Robb's mouth was stained in the dense, foolish pink of strawberries.

Theon stared at them feeling his heart of rubbish ready to collapse and crumble into pieces.

They were just a bit more than kids, but Theon already had started having sex, with havoc and pride, trying to prove something to himself and hungry for prey. Robb, instead, he was pretty sure Robb had never had a girl, not even for one night – first off, he would have told him, secondly, he would have never set for a one night stand, knowing him.

Theon was almost abused by himself and how natural it felt to think, crazily enough,  _What if I kissed him?_ .

How ridiculous.

Kissing a boy. Kissing a male. Kissing Robb, his Robb, his sweet, dear, beautiful Robb.

His glance fell on the square jaw, on the way it opened as he laughed, on the soft auburn curls, on the thick neck. He stared at Robb's teeth, his lips and wished for them around his cock.

He swallowed dryly.

Robb was a scorching, uncomfortable feeling, between his tongue and his heart, everything was sudden hunger and need.

_What if I kissed him?_

_What if he kissed back?_

Robb turned towards him, still glowing in a tender smile.

If he were a girl, Theon would have known what to do: he'd rub his thumb on those soft lips, cleaning them of the strawberry pulp, the thumb would rub the flesh ever so slightly, then sucking it as to clean it, and while Robb would have blinked, he would have smirked, eyes half-lidded, said a sweet nothing with his lowest, most velvet voice, then bowed over him and caught his lips.

Robb blinked weirdly enough, awkward.

Theon would have understood why only many years after.

“Is there something wrong with my face?”

_Right... what if we kissed?_

_What if... my father_ – 

A chuckle, “You mean more than usual?”

Robb rolled his eyes and laughed, hitting him on the shoulder, “Rude!”.

Light burnt on Robb's skin, in Theon's mind, making him feel against his skin like paper in flames.

When Robb holds him tight in a hug while laughing still, Theon is sure his stomach is about to burst.

One by one the rubbles and garbage of his rotten soul rolled onto the ground.

Like drops of acid from a sink.

Blop, blop, tic, tic, one, two, three hundred.

Robb's laugh was as sharp as the edge of a razor. Theon didn't know what to do with that uncomfortable feeling now squishing his lungs.

He wished it to be just misplaced lust.

He was straight. He was... he was straight. His father wouldn't have –

And yet, where Robb was holding him, it felt like heaven melted into him and quieted his storms.

 

*

 

Sansa rubbed the kids dry, ruffling their hair into little bushes, teaching them how to properly put together all the toys and dressed them up again, before arriving behind Robb and Theon, very much occupied in a bit too sordid for daylight kiss.

“You could have told me I would have been the babysitter today.”, she said, fakely offended.

Theon separated in jump. He thought Sansa couldn't see them from the kids pool, since it was a bit lower on the ground and they had some trees next to them.

Robb didn't seem to see any problem with it, of course.

“Sorry, San, I'm an idiot, I-”

“Lost the sense of time. - she smirked, smug like a cat – I guessed. And I'm actually very happy all over, so I'm forgetting this is a public space for how... unpopulated it is in this time of the day, and I'll kamikaze myself by bringing the kids to grab an ice-cream so you two can have some intimacy.”

“Are you sure you can manage both?”

“We're just going to the pool bar, don't worry, a big ice-cream bowl with cherries so they can finish discussing which power ranger is most fitting for which mini pony.”

Theon turned, looking at them, waiting quietly behind Sansa on the little towel on the ground. Isolde's eyes shone kindly as she made the effort to smile, without managing to look at Bran, but still trying to tell him she was having fun.

He felt so ridiculous.

That child with communication problems was managing better than him.

That child who supposedly would have been isolated instead reached for others at times more than he did, and always more honestly.

Bran gave her a little yellow flower and she put it in her pocket – not in the hair, that would have made her freak out, she didn't like her ears being touched – making him laugh and clap. 

Theon wondered how children could be real human beings, adults in training, and still have that rawness.

Their emotions were pure, not because they were white and candid, but because they were true. They were absolute. There were no shades in their minds.

They were untied from the chains of a world in greyscale.

Theon never knew any other world, instead.

Sansa grabbed the kids by the hands and announced that, “We are going to get a very yummy treat while these two lazy potato bags stay in the old men pool for their aching backs!”.

Bran snorted then turned to Theon and said, with a pitch that accepted no objections, “But I need to get Theon something too!”

“...well, we... - Sansa blinked, surprised – We can get him a candy, if you want, but Theon is not fond of them.”

Bran seemed heartbroken at the idea of being unable to manage with his plan.

Theon felt weirdly guilty, “Hey, little boy, you don't need to get me a present? I am the adult.”

“I know but... - he put his hands behind his back and kicked a little bit of the artificial sand – I wanted to.”

Sansa frowned, “Maybe little Bran just wants to make sure you enjoy the pool, am I right? - she hugged him tight – Maybe we can find something not sweet for uncle Theon.”

“...Sansa, you really-”

“Shhhh. - she said, bringing out the most motherly tone of voice Theon had ever witnessed from her – Silence. Silencio. Silence.”

Did Sansa Stark just shut him up in three languages?

The girl who used to beg him to play Ken in her Barbie dolls tea parties?

Theon was too baffled to reply, but Robb snorted, “Captain!”

Sansa imitated the military salute and went to the bar, keeping the kids with her, but leaving behind the big bags for the lazy men to bring after.

Theon turned to Robb, “Thanks for laughing.”

Robb shook his head, “My kid has a crush on you.”

“Children don't get crushes.”

“Well not like a romantic crush... - he mumbled, trying to search for the right word – Like a... friendcrush?”

Theon raised an eyebrow, “Why would he?”

Robb shook his head again, incredulous, “Theon, you are... pretty cool.”

“I'm not?”

“You look like a rockstar. - Robb smiled, bit shy, sucking his lips – Mysterious eyes, long hair, nice clothes... and you are... listening to him.”

“He is nice for being a kid.”, Theon bubbled, hiding by turning his face.

Robb grabbed Theon's wrist and clenched on it.

“I don't want to give the impression of a... rushing and careless father. - he says, swallowing – We... we won't have to explain anything yet and you won't have to act like... anything more than you feel the need to. I pro-”

Theon raised an eyebrow and let out the sourest of chuckles.

“Are you serious?”

Robb frowned and swallowed, “I'm sorry. I... - his voice turned to stone – I took for granted you wanted more than a fling.”

Theon turned to him, “I do but... me? - he laughed – Why would you want me? Me? - he snickered – For something serious?”

Robb smiled wide and pulled him close by the wrist. He smirked, lips a few centimetres away and whispered on the verge of his mouth.

“Because, Theon Greyjoy, I also find you pretty cool.”

As Robb closed up the kiss, Theon smirked into it and bit his lip, pulling it. He tasted the flesh and the growled grunt Robb let out.

Sweet. And smouldering.

 

*

 

Bran looked out of the window of the bar, trying to see if it was possible to catch a glimpse of the two. Sansa caressed his head, giving him a little smile, while leaning on one hand.

“Sweetie, what's wrong?”

Bran shook his head, putting the spoon inside the ice cream and stuffing his face with cream and cherries. The corners of his mouth were all a mess and Isolde gave him a side-eye glance, wondering how children were so clumsy: she'd never dirtied her face, not that she remembered, but she was sure she never had.

“C'mon... - Sansa tickled his cheek – Tell auntie what's up.”

“My belly hurts.”

Sansa frowned, confused, “How, honey?”

He shook his head, unsure.

Isolde glanced at him and then outside, while Sansa pet his head, “Did you eat too much ice cream or too quickly?”

Bran shrugged and fell silent.

Isolde held his hand tight.

He was clumsy and loud and touched a lot, but he was nice. She was not sure what he felt, but that frown, she knew, she learnt, was on his face only when he was not happy.

And she liked Bran the most when he was loud and happy and a bit annoying.

 

*

 

Robb left the bag on the bench with a sigh of relief; he wasn't sure if it was the time he spent in the water or the wet children’s towels, but it felt way heavier than before. Theon chuckled, shaking his head, then grinned.

“Heavy?”

“Don't make fun of me.”

Theon bit his lips, snickering.

Well, Robb surely was not anymore the scrawny boy he was for most of his teen years – he had bloomed, the lines of lean muscles almost drawn on his fit body, the arms had gotten bigger and stronger too, not to his displeasure. It led him to a dark, liquorish thought.

Robb could have held him down with no effort, as they were.

His arm was right then probably a good double of his own.

Normally, and by normally he'd mean the abnormal horrifying status that was his previous normality, the thing would have terrified him. Instead, then, it was warmly arousing.

The thought of Robb's pressure and weight against his own, his hands keeping his wrists over his head, while he'd stuff him full.

The idea of Robb pumping into him while biting his neck and burying a groan into his flesh.

Theon realized he was not even sure... how Robb would have made love. Probably sweet and slow.

But his kisses were hungry and a tiny bit invasive, his big tongue would press and violate deliciously up to the brink.

The idea, the idea of Robb wanting him and taking him, felt good.

Theon was not unsure why. It felt almost... dirty and sticky to think about that; not the sex per sé but the idea of it being a bit rough and not... pure. Weren't people like him supposed to want only gentle sex? Was he... bad?

Jeyne probably wouldn't want anyone to bite her.

His lips quivered, as he took a step back, as if the floor tilted and left him dizzy.

Robb turned towards him, noticing the movement, and blinked, right before brushing his hand on Theon's arm.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, sure... - he shook his head – I think I just need some cold water on my head, you know...”

Robb looked around.

God, he loved pools in office times.

“...do you want to shower together?”

Theon blinked and stared at Robb as if he needed to process that well. When they came to the pool, Robb was already wearing trunks under his clothes and Theon changed very quickly in the changing room, and even after, even if his eyes did glance, eagerly, hungrily, on Robb's, he never lingered much. He was almost afraid of himself.

He wanted to feel Robb, though...

He glanced around too and then nodded, sucking his lips, letting out a little grin and moving backwards towards the shower stools. 

The teal of the porcelain tiles glimmered white with light and water crushing against them. A deep scent of pine rose from the stools, probably the most common man’s products' scent. 

As he reached one, he turned on the shower and glanced back, as to check if Robb was there yet. And then, as he turned, he felt Robb's arm clenching his waist, gripping his hip and his mouth on his own, voracious as if he had to devour him.

He didn't oppose resistance as Robb pushed him against the walls, pouring himself in the kiss, pushing inside him until Theon's jaw felt numb. Robb's tongue took all the space it needed, filling him, pushing, making Theon moan – a loud winch turned muffled and dense.

Theon's smile got wide, water pouring over his face – hot but not unpleasantly so – and he closed his eyes, feeling Robb's whole body rubbing against him. He had that warmth, so familiar and yet so foreign. Their skins felt like a thin line, easy to break, from which they could pour through and bleed into each other that mass of wet love and precious needs.

He could feel one of Robb's hands on his hip, almost scratching it, holding it like the iliac crest were his only grip to him, the other hand next to Theon's head, keeping him against the wall. Theon moved closer, pushed through, reciprocating the kiss, hoping for Robb's hands to go elsewhere.

And they do, unfortunately only the one on the wall.

It moved to his wet hair, caressing them, pulling them – Theon found himself slack jawed and hardened as Robb pulled his hair in a small jerk. 

It was him.

It was him. It felt good.

Theon's eyes twitched – a wet veil under the eyelids, while realizing, it was never about the action, was it? Robb could have done anything to him. He could have tied him, he could have hit him, _it wouldn’t hurt_ .

Because Robb wouldn't have done it for rage, for control, for hate, he wouldn't have done it against him.

He would have done it out of that insatiable appetite and delirious greed they always had for each other.

Theon smiled and almost threw himself on Robb, arms around his neck, his kisses getting voracious – Robb almost lost his equilibrium, but he held Theon tight and then caressed his hair, gently this time. Reassuring like the stream of the water over them.

Theon's eyes were scorching hot and wet in lust as he whispered, panting, breaking the kiss.

“Take them off.”

Robb stiffened, his Adam's apple jumped.

“I thought – Robb swallowed but his voice came out as hoarse as the desert – I... didn't you want to take it slow?”

Theon's smug grin twitched up, as a seductive look took over his eyes.

Droplets fell off his plump lips.

“I never thought I'd say to wait for sex.”

Robb didn't dare to point out it would have made sense, all things considered.

“And. - Theon added – Although that may be, not for... all, and I still don't think you should shower with your trunks on.”

Robb chugged down a chocked laugh, “I... I am not sure if-”

Theon raised an eyebrow and pulled them down. Well, wasn't he as hard as a mountain?

Robb felt suddenly nervous and almost moved to cover it, but Theon took his wrists and placed them on his own swimsuit, using Robb's hands to lower it down, slowly. 

He felt no pain passing over the scars left.

He felt, maybe, the water could hide them a bit better.

And some... some were fading away into a color just lighter than his skin. Like little gaps of colors.

Robb's eyes widened as the moon as he found Theon hard too, and his cheeks seemed to flush up.

Theon's hands now went on his cheeks and they brought him in for a kiss.

Robb seemed to panic silently for a long instant, then he let out a “Say stop if.” which at first Theon couldn't decode; then his back was again against the wall, the water starting to get hotter, while Robb pressed against him – oh, he felt so real, he was no dream.

Robb start to hump, rubbing their aching pulsing cocks together, one against the other.

Theon's moans were drowned by the sound of the fake rain shattering on the cold floor. Robb's hand pressing his chest, the other one helping their shafts, jerking them, moving up and down.

Theon whined, thinking that, well that wasn't what he expected.

He always thought, in the back of his head, if it had happened, he would have seduced Robb slowly, sucked his cock and drove him into insanity. Robb would have come into his mouth and feel amazed and enchanted by his natural talent and then, then he would have fucked him, well unravelled and destroyed, as a thanks. Instead, Robb was... taking him.

And Theon couldn't help but smile between moans.

_He wanted me._

_He did._

_All these years, he wanted me and hated me and loved me._

_As pure as a child._

_Unchained from grey._

_Black and white, no, none of them. Just red. Red beyond the colour of blood._

Theon held onto Robb, his hands trembled and he sank his nails into his back, making him wince and grunt and growl in pain stained by bliss, harder than before, huskier and rougher. The hot water bled like the color of glass over them and Theon closed his eyes again, coming hard, right against Robb's hard cock, right before him, making their stomachs pearly and their breaths panted out.

Robb's free hand went on Theon's hair and caressed it. Theon leaned his cheek against his palm.

 

*

Theon never forgot that night.

Robb smelled as good as the breeze that brought pines and hazelnut flowers. He had that lukewarmth of the home you had just found. They held each tight, as Bran went to his bed after many fairytales and game requests, and Robb fell asleep soon after hitting the mattress, tired down, with a wide, blissful smile on his lips.

Theon would have liked to smile too.

But all he could think about was that, perhaps, that wouldn't have cleaned him.

He wished he could have sat on the pile of his bones and cleaned all of them, one by one, from the blood and the cum and the disgust. Most of everything, he wished he could clean them from how it made him.

He thought back to that time he kissed him, willingly, fully, tongues tied up together. He hoped... he hoped that it would have made him kinder. He hoped he could have tricked him.

That morning was not different from the others – he woke up on the dirty sheets, his head knocked out and dense from a dizzy feeling (he was always so sleepy in the last months, after so many months sleeping two hour or four per night) and he was not sure if alcohol or something from the night before were to blame. He then felt Ramsay's hand against his head, pushing it against the pillow, strongly.

He was sure he should have panicked, but he didn't. Until he felt it in: metal.

Something long, cold, metallic, he had not much to imagine about what it was: Ramsay had told him multiple times bad whores get their holes hollowed.

Theon started to cry, yell, muffled sobs like swine while Ramsay would move the rifle up and down his ass, fucking him. 

“Come and I'll let you go whole.”, he promised, with that voice seductive like dirt and snails' slobber, suave as goo.

Theon pleaded gobbled up sobs, but then started to move against it. Disgust came through his bones, it sat in his veins and made his blood rotten.

He tried to hit his prostate between the tears, while Ramsay would then pet his hair and whisper candidly, “You sound like a filthy swine.”.

Theon felt the scratches burn, the blood sizzle up, but what was he supposed to do? Stop and risk that piece of shit to blow him up inside out?

If at least he had been sure it to be a quick death...

It was when he felt Ramsay's hard cock against his thigh, he figured, nails tucked in the sheets, he had to choose once again between hating himself or surviving. But... somehow, it never felt like much of a choice... because there was no actual end. It was just more pain, more humiliation, more disgust.

He closed his eyes, feeling like puking, and let out a desperate moan.

He tried to focus on the coldness of the metal and the pain he'd have felt otherwise.

“Please. - he whined, giving his best performance – Please, I need your cock, I can't come with anything else.”

And... Ramsay fell for it.

He took out the rifle, grinning and started fucking him, pushing his head against the pillow, almost suffocating him, and pushing hard and unkind and unpleasant through the little rivers of blood in his raw flesh. Theon prayed to suffocate, that, that would have been so sweet.

The air floated grey and lilac to his head, making him about to faint despite the burn and sting piercing through him.

Ramsay came, maybe in his usual couple of minutes, maybe longer – but Theon was unluckily still there.

He came, though. Ramsay made always sure he did.

Not out of kindness, of course.

But because he wanted him to feel dirty.

He wanted the humiliation to burn through his cheeks and stomach, the disgust to pool like heat through all his veils.

He wanted Theon to contemplate himself, rejoicing in the idea of being fucked like a whore. 

And Theon started to make sure he could come too, just to make sure the whole charade would have been finished quicker.

He turned, Ramsay still in, pushing again through, and kissed him. He hoped... he hoped if he had been a good boy he would have stopped hurting him.

… it was the same with dad, wasn't it?

Ramsay slapped him away, took the rifle back and shot a few millimeters away from his head.

Theon remembered crying and begging and the stank of the sheet stained in blood and cum and pee.

He stared at Robb, sleeping next to him with the most blessed, warm smile.

_He must never know._

_He must never know what I did._

_He must never know what I had become._

Theon rolled up and hid against Robb's chest, between his arms, holding him tight, terrified of waking up to find him turned into a worn pillow.

 

 


	6. 6. Seditious

 

_6\. Seditious_

 

* * *

 

So, they said they would not have rushed. 

Theon had always had loveless sex, all of his life was a one night stand, and Robb was heavily unsure about risking to force him into the whole homosexuality train ride. So, they decided, they wouldn't have just thrown themselves into it.

That was the plan.

… well, they sucked at sticking to it.

Robb brought Brandon to kindergarten and returned home to work on some of his articles, when he saw Theon, still in the apron he made breakfast in, finishing up with ordering the kitchen, he felt his crotch twitch and as they exchanged a long, lingering glance, they found each other, a moment later, making out furiously against the fridge, Robb humping his groin against Theon's, their breaths mixing up and moans rolling all over.

They stopped as Theon's look got so burning that Robb almost rushed away to keep it.

When Robb started working, laptop on the table of the kitchen, he stared at the screen intensely, trying to avoid looking at Theon, reading job offers next to him, his tapering long fingers drumming on the table, while he moved his feet forwards and backwards in a swinging motion.

As he felt watched, Theon turned to him, but his “Want a cup of coff – ?” got cut off and died in Robb's mouth pressed against his own, as the bigger man topped him, grabbing him tightly. Theon felt thundering shivers riding his spine and heat already rolling down his abdomen to...

Theon pushed Robb away slightly, putting his hands between their chests.

He panted.

“This is getting hard.”

“Me too.”, Robb groaned, closing his eyes and diving back in for a kiss.

As he parted, Theon found it very hard to let out a breathless, “...I meant the situation.”

“Oh.”

Robb seemed mortified and Theon shook his head and grabbed him back, sinking his teeth into his neck, making him let out a low growl. Robb held Theon's back tightly, pulling him close, feeling him stiffing under his touch.

“Sorry, I think skipping that part in your early twenties when you fuck like a rabbit left me a bit... needy.”

Theon snorted, leaned against Robb's neck and breathed in his smell.

“I had that phase and I want you all the same.”

Robb's hand went down, lowering and caressing Theon's ass, before through the thick fabric of the jeans, then he put one hand in and fondled it – a moan chocked up, then Theon's lips sucking his neck to avoid screaming or make him do it too – and Robb squished the soft flesh, like silk against his palms, dense and firm. Theon bit his neck and whined into his veins, Robb lifted his ass and put him on the kitchen table, almost towering above him, making him lean and twist, in between sitting and laying, suspended between what he was supposed to do and what he needed as a burning wish boiling his blood.

Robb's eyes were wet with lust.

Theon's lips quivered, he bit them to keep them from trembling, as his eyes rolled down Robb's neck, the wide chest, the tense stomach and the swollen crotch area, pulling his jeans tightly.

Theon Greyjoy refusing sex?

Damn, that was the last thing he would have expected of himself.

But what if he screwed up everything again with Robb? What if he asked about what he liked (and what would he be supposed to say? “Hm not sure, you see, I only had girls and then my rapist, so, you know... I haven’t explored it properly” ?) or how he gained some of his scars? What if he'd panic about Bran and what that would have meant for him?

… what would have he felt if when his mom... if his father had a new girlfriend?

He would have hated her, wouldn't he?

What if Robb would give him up for Bran?

… what if he'd make them distanced and far away from each other? What if he'd ruin it – ?

Robb's hand papped his cheek, like a small slap turning into a caress.

“Earth calling Theon?”, he whispered, worried, eyebrows furrowed.

Theon nodded, “Sorry, I was thinking about Bran...”

“That... should probably concern me as a parent.”, Robb pointed out with a smile, showing he understood what he had meant.

Theon fakely laughed at the joke mockingly, “I'm not... sure how he will take this thing.”

Robb moved Theon's hair from his forehead.

“We can take all the time in the world, he has no idea what sex is.”

“He... sees me... I sleep with you, I live here. He doesn't need to know how children are born to understand you are finding a replacement for his mom.”

Robb stepped back, blinking, upset, “I... you are not a replacement.”

“That’s not what I meant...”

“Then what?”

Theon took Robb's hand and kissed it softly, bit charmingly, looking up, as he'd do to a girl to gain forgiveness. Robb grumbled, while giving up too, slowly, his annoyance.

“I like you, Robb Stark. - Theon chuckled, smiling charmingly – I’ve liked you for long time and... I know I rejected you, but Jeyne was your wife for many years. And she is Bran's mom. - he paused and kissed the fingers, before innocently, then sucking the tips slowly, between words – I am the new one. I don't want to freak him out.”

Robb seemed convinced, but he pouted anyway and leaned on Theon's shoulder, resting his head against it.

“...but you don’t see how cute you are.”

Theon smirked, “Cute, really? I'd go for handsome, irresistible, devastatingly beautiful.”

“Cocky.”

“Perhaps.”, Theon grinned, licking Robb's lips awfully slowly.

Robb groaned, “If you want me to return to work, distracting me doesn't help.”

Theon's hand caressed Robb's chest, pulling the shirt tight with panted breathes. 

 

*

 

“May I offer you a drink?”

Theon turned and scoffed, almost insulted, “I don't swing that way, sorry.”.

As he tried to turn again, he grabbed his wrist. His hands were big, ungracefully so, rough and sweaty, hairy like a boar and smelling hardly better.

“You sure?”, it was not much of a question.

It was a knife. A grin made of steel and force.

Theon took a moment of pause and doubt, blinking and swallowing, dry and nervous, before pulling his hand away, glaring at him, “Yes, I am.”

His face was blotched, full of old scars – didn't even look like acne, more like... he dug into his own face? – and a nose that would have been considered a disgraceful architectural barrier, while his eyes were iced moons, glittering shards of milky glass. He was massive, but not in a way that would have made him attractive, more like a mountain of trash creepily occupying space.

Theon wanted to chuckle.

He didn't bow into homosexuality for Robb, he was not gonna do it for creepy-eyed trash boar.

He turned, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, half disgusted and half pleased with himself.

Then a hand grabbed the stool he was sitting on and twisted in, making him almost fall on the counter. He raised his eyes to see he was again in front of that thing.

“You faggots really can't take no for an answer, can you?”

“Oh. - he almost chirped, his lips looked fat and slimy like slugs – It's just curious to see someone like you still in the closet of denial.”

Theon was about to break his glass on the head of the boar as he grinned, mockingly.

“Even if I were into men, which I am not, I'm pretty positive, you'd still not manage to end up in my bed.”

He raised an eyebrow and Theon noticed just then his face was not strictly fat, mostly it was swollen, almost inflated, and oily. He was tempted to pass a wipe over it.

“So we'd be speaking about your bed. - he half smirked, those heavy, round lips scrunching – You see, someone so obsessed with people entering him, shouldn't be still in denial.”

Theon's face became red in outrage and he stood up, giving that man the most disgusted look he could find.

“Have a good lonely night, weirdo.”

Another smirk, “Can I ask something?”

And somehow Theon couldn't find himself denying that, despite the nausea riding his mouth.

_Robb, Robb, Robb_ – he missed him so...

“What if I let you fuck me? - the man asked, tingling Theon's jacket's end – Wouldn't be much different from fucking a girl anally, would it? And your problem it's just the other way around...”

Theon made a grimace but didn't move away.

The man's eyes shone in a slimy gleam. He knew he had him.

Theon swallowed hard, staring at him.

He really wasn't anything special. If he did... maybe he would have been able to hold it better.

_Maybe_ , a crazy corner of his mind thought, _maybe if I fuck him I'll take away the wish, the lust without getting addicted and then... then I'll be able to see Robb. Again_ .

Theon breathed in and the man grinned, victorious, adding, “Just to try... for once.”

“Maybe...”

“Name is Ramsay. By the way.”

And it was just once, at first.

And that time... that time was not good, but not bad, either. Ramsay was loud, sweaty and lewd – which he usually didn't mind, he sorta liked the gritty screamed orgasms, but that time, it felt different. Maybe because with girls he always knew it was sex. And sex is vulgar and that's what makes it great. It's dirty, it's sultry, it's all for the burn and the wetness.

But he never pictured himself with a man if not with Robb.

_And with Robb, it wouldn't have been just_ … Theon felt nauseated and wanted to slap himself for thinking that. Christ, what was he? Some thirteen year old little girl?

He fucked Ramsay's ass feeling just the sensation of being covered in a thin film of filth that suddenly sunk beneath him, inside him. When he came, Ramsay's voice echoed like a swine’s drunken grunt, half-screamed, half- thrown up, and Theon sank into him a couple times more before emptying himself as quickly as he could.

He was already zipping his trousers back, when he heard Ramsay's clingy whine.

“Another turn?”

Theon let out an annoyed chuckle, preparing himself to leave Ramsay's apartment in record time.

“Nah, I- I have to go to work early tomorrow.”

“I see. - Ramsay mumbled as if he was plotting something – May I bum a cigarette at least?”

Theon shrugged, uninterested, looking for his lost silk blue tie.

“They are in the moshi, take them.”

“You know? - Ramsay snorted – With those lips, you struck me as an oral guy, I'm surprised you didn't even try to suck me.”

Theon was tempted to tell him he made all the prejudices about male intimate hygiene a reality and he didn't feel like taking into his mouth something that smelled like a public toilet.

“Maybe next time.”

“Will there be a next time?”

“No.”

Ramsay snickered, curling his lips up. Theon was surprised: he hoped the thing to insult him enough to make him leave, instead he was just... smiling. As if he fell into a trap or the thing amused him.

Then he saw what he had in his hands.

“Robb, uh? - the man chuckled again, turning the picture again after reading the writing behind it – Pretty boy. Bit too lumberjack for my taste.”

Theon moved to take the photograph back but Ramsay moved the hand behind his back and laughed, amused.

Theon could feel his cheek flare up in humiliation.

“So it's him? - another laugh – The Elected Penis? The only thing you'll let stuff your hole?”

Theon shouted, “Give it back, jerk.”

“You know this one wouldn't bottom, right? - Ramsay snorted, staring again at the photograph and then letting Theon pick it from his hands, he raised his eyes the pearly color of frozen dew – Let me guess, he kept making gay jokes? Wanted to play a bit with his cock but he refused you a ride? Now you move here and try to pretend it never happened?”

Theon almost spit on him.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh no. - Ramsay smirked – I don't think so.”

As he stood up and moved closer, Theon felt somehow himself wavering. The man didn't look strong, but he was massive and those eyes did freak him out, he felt them under his kin, between his wetted guts.

He almost didn't feel the punch until it hit him and threw him against the drawer. His head started to pulse, his brain feeling like it was jumping and vibrating into his skull. His sight got blurred a moment and he tried to curse the pain away.

“Now, we have fun as I say.”

“What the fuck? - Theon shouted, tried to push him away – Don't you even try to to-”

And then a very thin, very sharp smirk crossed Ramsay's face. Another punch stopped Theon, cutting the words in his stomach, while a kick made him spit a couple of teeth and spit blood over the creamsicle moquette.

“For starters, you'll suck my cock real well. - he said, his lips all twisted in a smile – And then, then you'll beg me to fuck your ass until it bleeds.”

It took him more, of course, to accept.

At first, it was just punches and kicks. Then Ramsay took a nail from the wall, where the creepiest family picture Theon had ever the displeasure to see hung, and sunk it into Theon's wrist, as deep as he could, blocking his screams with his dirty boxers, shutting him up and taking pleasure, even getting hard, just at the sight of Theon's terrified eyes filled in tears and pain.

When Theon surrendered and accepted, he was hoping that would have stopped that man.

But as Ramsay entered in him and for real fucked him until blood fell in little rivers on his thighs, and came into him with a proud “I marked you, slut”, Theon understood it was just a terrible start.

  
  


*

  
  


“Theon?”

Robb's voice echoed worried inside him.

Theon blinked then grabbed Robb's shirt collar down and pulled him in for a kiss – he parted his lips, welcomed him and let their tongues entwine in moans and saliva. Robb held him tight and Theon sighed into his mouth, breaking the kiss.

_I want you to clean me._

_I want you to come inside me and take his mark away._

_I want the signs over the parts he touched to be deleted by your fingertips._

_I want you to clean me away, to make me whole again, I want to decide it was a dream and we were together since high school._

… _but I can't tell you he existed, can I? You wouldn't want me then._

“I want you.”, Theon said, simply.

Robb smiled, shining bright, not knowing, not seeing behind that thick veil. He caressed Theon's ear and cupped his cheeks to bring him in for a kiss.

His eyes fell on the scar under Theon's lips. But he couldn’t dare to ask.

He wondered if Theon ended up again in some drug affairs, if he owned money to someone and they decided to hurt him as revenge. But he seemed whole and usually one just doesn't come out whole from gangsters. And Theon promised he is clean.

“What are you staring at?”, Theon asked, fearful.

“Your lips. - Robb whispered, - They are always pretty.”

Theon shook his head, “Damn, Robb, you're such a sappyhead-”, but he got abruptly interrupted by a soft kiss of Robb's plump, tender lip on his own, the hands gently caressing his back, as an invitation but also a request for permission.

“I, - Theon pushed Robb slightly away – I... why don't you, continue working a bit, while I prepare myself?”

Robb blinked and raised an eyebrow, “Preparing?”

Theon's eyes glanced down to his lower back, signalling and Robb didn't seem to be fully able to understand.

“I have to... clean myself.”

Robb's eyes went wide and Theon could see him blinking and turning a bit to the side, his cheeks pinker with surprise, happiness and a certain embarrassment.

“I, uh...”

“It’s okay. - Theon snorted, feeling suddenly again like the confident one in total control of the situation, and letting out a smirk, as he caressed Robb's chest – I'm going to guide you a bit, I can be a good teacher.”

Robb cleared his voice, unsure how to say  _that_ .

“Since... you know, would you rather me to...”

Theon raised an eyebrow, perplexed, “No.”

“Oh thank god.”, he breathed out, absolutely delighted, in relief.

Theon laughed, almost snorting, “Were you scared to?”

“I value my... anal integrity.”, Robb admitted, his nose getting red.

“You're so cute somehow.”

Robb frowned, “Yes, okay, but I mean, it’s also your first... you said in the movie you topped so... I don't want to force you.”

Right.

Theon felt like crumbling. Fuck he did say he had only sex that time with a man and he didn't speak about bottoming.

He swallowed, asking himself why the fuck he couldn't at least remember his lies properly.

“I... might have read some stuff. - he regained himself, hopefully – I, I told you I thought about it with you.”

Robb's eyes gleamed.

“You... want me that way then, for sure?”

Theon nodded, biting his lips. Somehow, Robb's smile made him feel dirtier.

And yet, yet it made him also feel like there was a dawn pulsing in between his chest.

“Don't act all so flattered, I expect you to make me very satisfied.”

  
  


*

  
  


“The train will leave in two hours. - the ticket office worker told her, handing her the change – Have a good day, miss.” 

She glanced up at the train time tables, hesitantly.

She held onto her luggage, with a small smile, filled with hope.

She wanted to see him again... and now she had the chance to.

  
  


*

  
  


When Theon entered in the room, he snorted so hard he thought he'd break his own nose.

Robb Stark was there, panicking and doing last minute push ups, after having sprayed way too much perfume on himself – he even lit up a couple of lilac candles around and he could see from the little red light he prepared some music in the cd player.

“Really? - Theon smirked – Did you take me for a sixteen year old?”

Robb fell on the ground, hearing him there and caught himself, standing up again in a moment, nervously, “Well. - he cleared his voice – It is a... first time and first times are important.”

Theon rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “I think I fucked a whole city in total and you were married. - he gave a mocking smile – There is nothing special or first here.”

Robb swallowed dryly and forced a smile.

“Right, uh, I'm sorry.”

Theon frowned, walking closer to him, caressing his shoulders.

“And you don't really need push ups.”

“Well, I'm competing against a porn star.”, he pointed out.

Theon looked at him intensely, his eyes lingering on Robb's, trying to figure it out.

“What's wrong?”

Robb opened his mouth, breathed in and then out, tired, “To me... it is kind of special.”

Theon lowered his look, as he felt Robb's hands on his arms, then on his waist, untying the bathrobe, slowly. One hand caressed his hip, the other went on his hair, gently, giving Theon any chance to protest or stop.

Theon sighed, realizing Robb was very different from him.

He had always had a big gap between sex and feelings and Ramsay made sure to make that gap into a moon-sized one. 

Robb, instead, he had only done it with his wife. 

He was his first: his first man, his first love, his first fuck with actual pleasure.

It was his first.

Theon smiled, shaking his head, feeling stupid. He felt turbid so long he forgot how transparent Robb was.

“You're very right, mister Stark. - he said, holding Robb's hands in his own – So, did you prepare me a playlist?”

Robb's cock twitched at being called 'mister', Theon noticed, then Robb rushed to the cd player and mumbled something about the songs being weird but that he found them nice and Theon wasn't even listening, too busy thinking about how damn much he wanted that human puppy to kiss him forever.

Robb swallowed, as he turned, finding Theon sitting on the bed, sensually, one leg over the other, leaning back without laying, glancing at him with smearing hot looks.

He moved close, moved near him and tried to pass through his mind all the theory he read as a horny teenager, all the movies he saw, hoping to not forget anything. Theon seemed to notice his distraction, because he pulled him down, deepening the kiss, imposing him to be present fully.

Theon smiled in the kiss, biting his lover's bottom lip, feeling him quiver feverishly aroused against him.

And then, a buzz.

“I'm not gonna take it, don't worry.”, Robb mumbled in the kiss, pushing Theon gently against the bed.

Theon arched his back, rubbing against him.

Another buzz.

And another.

“Persistent...”, Theon commented, half-annoyed, trying to keep Robb on him.

“Let me check who it is, okay?”

Theon rolled his eyes to the ceiling: adult life and responsibility sucked. Robb went to the drawer and grabbed the mobile and, upon seeing the number he became pale and replied with a slightly trembling hand.

“Hey... - he seemed sad, but Theon didn't ask - ...yes, sure, I can come immediately. Yes.”

Theon frowned, at first offended, then worried by the gravity painted black on Robb's face.

“...did something happen?”

“Can you go take Bran from school? - Robb asked, his chest drumming, voice hoarse – Sansa needs me at the hospital.”

  
  


*

  
  


The school bell echoed loudly, sending the birds to fly away, in search for silence. The tree dark fronds danced quietly in the wind.

Nothing changed much from when he was the one entering in that big, brown, brick building, which held the schools of every grade of the little town. The park was still unkept and he seemed to recognize the artificial washed away blue of the slide and the plastically worn red of the swing saw.

He sat there, cigarette in his mouth, staring in front of him, at the big gate of iron from which the teacher started distributing the children back.

As he spotted Bran, he rose up and walked there, one hand in his pocket and one waving. He was sure the sunglasses and leather jacket didn't make him seem like the most reliable caretaker, but Bran's giant smile as he rushed to him shouting “Uncle Theon!” gave him a certain believable shade. The teacher at first asked for a document, before recognizing him, remembering a very long night at the beach and, embarrassed, cursing herself, remembering the many calls she made which Theon didn't pick up... and he didn't seem to recognize her. Luckily for him, she had enough honesty to realize if someone could have been trusted with Robb Stark's kid, for some inexplicable, unbelievable reason to the rest of the world, it had to be his long time best friend Theon Greyjoy.

Bran didn't even ask why his father was not there, too preoccupied with hugging Theon's leg so tightly he wondered if he could have lifted him if he tried to walk.

Theon chuckled, taking off his glasses.

“So, where do you want to hang out?”

“Hang out?”, Bran asked, big eyes sparkling.

Theon had no intention of having to explain him why his dad was away.

“Hey, did you think Uncle Theon picking you up was not gonna include an afternoon snack and a trip to the toy store?”

Bran clapped his hands, enthusiastic, “Ice cream pancakes!”

“Good call, little one!”, Theon nodded, profoundly.

“And I want fries too!”

Theon gave him a glance of “that is not really healthy, is it”, but then he remembered how much he craved sweets in his house as a child. Well, since his mother lost her marbles, he mainly wished for healthy food, since his father made them live of off fried chicken and pizza, but before, at the time she was around, there were days he would have killed for some chocolate.

“Deal. But tonight you have broccoli.”

Bran weighted his options and nodded, convinced: yes, fries and ice cream were worth a mini tree later.

“I am okay with alien trees.”

Theon snorted, “Then, we really should head to get our well-deserved sugar.”

“Will you have some too?”, Bran asked.

Theon glanced at himself: was he still that skinny? He hoped he gained a bit now that he could eat. He was rarely hungry out of habit, but he did try.

He wondered if to Bran he looked like a giant spaghetto.

“...I don't like eating alone.”, Bran explained, looking down, kicking little pebbles.

Theon lowered down to him and winked, “Excuse me, we are going to see who can munch more pancakes!”

Bran's eyes shone and he hugged him again, Theon ruffled his auburn hair turning rose gold under the sunlight.

“Theon... - Bran asked, pulling his jeans – Can I come up?”

He blinked, surprised. Usually Bran was all about running and using his own legs for everything, even, he noticed, sometimes leaning on the dangerous explorative side.

Maybe he was really terrible with kids and he sensed something was wrong?

“Shoulders? - Theon asked, shaking away the thoughts – So you can be the tallest of them all?”

“I like being tall!”

“Oookay, but promise to hold my neck, hm? I don’t want you to fall off like a ripe apple.”

He raised Bran and placed him on his shoulders, gaining a huge smile and a strong hug squeezing his neck. As he didn't have to face him and look at him in the eyes, Bran took a bit of courage.

“I don't remember mom very much.”

Theon stiffened, but tried to not let it notice.

“Me neither, little one.”

“Did your mom go away too?”

“Sort of.”, he mumbled, unsure if death was a topic to discuss with a kindergartener.

“Dad is happy now. - Bran said, then made a long pause, as he tried to find the adult words to say something he couldn't express, just feel – I am happy too.”

Theon held tightly onto the little legs and, even if he was technically keeping Bran up, he felt like those little legs were the ones actually supporting him, keeping him from drowning.

“Now that Theon is with us, it's always fun.”, Bran concluded, with a little squeeze, then resting his face against Theon's soft, dark hair.

Theon bit his lips, trying to suffocate a curse.

It was not like him. Not at all.

But his eyes started watering and round fat tears rolled down his long cheeks.

He felt a weirdly uncomfortable warmth. He felt he... could fit, somewhere, in the life of someone.

He was no stranger, no burden, not undesired.

  
  


*

  
  


They arrived home in the late afternoon, Bran jumping like a spring, energetic as the first second, shrieking in joy as he could bring home his new giant plush of the pig of Toy Story – Theon learnt that day Toy Story had more characters than the two gay ones and that the pig was apparently named Hamm, really now? Who picked that? Hannibal? – and a BB8 little wool hat that Theon admittedly bought him very enthusiastically. Was he starting to find kids cute? Nauseating. 

Well, but Bran was. Just Bran, though.

Theon was bringing in a little plastic bag also, a serving of extra waffles they ordered to bring to Robb, imagining he couldn't eat much.

Robb was still not home, though, and Bran seemed so heartbroken in not being able to tell him of the ice cream and the pancakes and that he tried fries with ice cream and that he could show him a plush basically almost taller than him.

“I bet dad just went out for a moment. - Theon lied, patting his back – Why don't we play a bit until he comes home?”

And they played for hours and had dinner and Theon ruffled Bran's hair and told him a fairytale.

Luckily, Bran seemed to have inherited the sense of time from that air-head of his uncle Rickon, because he didn't realize a whole evening passed without his father returning and thought only little time passed.

It was one am when Theon saw his mobile blinking green.

“Robb?”

“I... am downstairs. I can't exit from the car.”

“What?”, he breathed out, shouting low-voiced

“I... - a bitter laugh Theon knew too well – I know it sounds stupid, I just... - a sniffle – I can't bring myself to pull the door, I... Theon, are you still there?”

Robb stared at the phone, wondering why he hung up and then a clunking knock on the window caught his attention.

Theon was there, smiling, with a plastic bag and... two beer cans. Rob laughed, in relief and he let him in.

“Sup. Room service.”

“Thank you. - Robb smiled, shaking his head, god, that was the type of stuff that made him fall so hard for Theon, many years ago – I feel so stupid.”

Theon glared at him, “Don't you dare. - he warned, giving him the waffle box – Now tell me what happened.”

Robb nodded, shaking slightly. He sank the fork in the waffle. The syrup spilled in the box from its little cup when Theon rushed down the stairs.

No syrup ever tasted sweeter.

“Sansa bled a bit.”

“Oh fuck.”

“She is stable now but Tyrion is in Paris today for a conference on the Hundred Year war and... - a dry laugh – If she told him, he would have come back, and she didn't want him to give it up, so...”

“How is she right now?”

“She is stable and... the kid seems alight, but...”

His hand shook. He let out a sigh. His voice was hoarse like sandpaper as he held back tears.

“I haven’t been in a hospital since my dad and... and I've held a grudge towards Sansa for so long and I felt scared that...I was gonna lose her like I...”

Theon's hand went on Robb's soft auburn curls, moving them gently away from the cheek, the back of his hand caressed the apple’s curve, tenderly.

“Sansa is fine. And your dad knew you loved him.”

“You... I don't think you get it.”

Theon snorted, “Family drama?”

“...I have a duty to Sansa, you know? As older brother. - he explained, eyes watery – I, I have this duty to protect her like a knight.”

“She is tw...”

“I know, and married but... - he shook his head – You... you have a void on one side, no one to depend on you, I had the void on the other: nobody to depend on. I... I just had to keep her up, them all, and I loved them, but...”

Theon frowned, “Why did you feel a grudge towards her?”

“She... always cheered for us. And when you rejected me... I- I was angry at her cause she kept saying to her you were in love too.”

“... she was not wrong.”

“Okay but I didn't know! - Robb shouted, then just to let it out and smile - … and I was angry at her for... upping my hopes.”

Theon sighed, smiling. God, he was cute.

“Did you tell her today you loved her?”

“Yes. - Robb pouted – She laughed.”

“I would have too.”

Robb swallowed, then glanced at him, “Would you?”

“Hm?”

Theon blinked. Robb put the waffle box on the counter of the car and turned towards Theon.

“If I... told you, would you laugh?”

Theon's face felt light, and tinging, burning. 

“Still? How stubborn are you?”

Robb's hand cupped Theon's cheek, gently, then he pulled him close, and caught his lips in his own, moving against him, tongue pressuring the mouth's entrance to dive in, Theon opening and welcoming him.

He could taste the salt of Robb's tears, the sweetness of the syrup.

His cock jumped as Robb started caressing it, rubbing it with his palm through the trousers.

Theon could even see it, already erect, needy, under Robb's fast rubs. He threw his head back, screaming for more.

Robb pushed him against the door, Theon feeling the cold window glass against his head and the hardness of his cock begging for Robb's hand. He sunk his nails into the leather seats, scratching them.

“Fu–”

Robb's teeth drowned in his neck. The pain blissfully needed, as the pressure of his suck and bites made Theon feel like he was sucking his blood out. He let out an obscene moan against Robb's growls. His neck shivering like a deer chugged down by a wolf – embers of heat and arousal spilling out and pooling in his balls. 

He glanced at Robb's bulge, strong and big against his own, and bit his lips in delight of the foreboding.

His lips trembled, he closed his eyes.

“I wouldn't...”, he let out, desperately.

Robb parted from then neck and glanced at him, questioning.

“I wouldn't laugh.”

Robb's smile shone of its own light as he sank into another deep kiss while fastening his rhythm on Theon's covered erection, pushing where the head was, making him squirm and writhe.

“I love you.”, Robb confessed, just before rubbing harder and pressing the tip of Theon's cock, making him come with a chocked up moan as he bent over him. Theon held onto him, swallowing.

“Me too...”

Robb grinned, looking into his eyes, “Do you want to... go up or...?”

Theon glanced up, “There is... is there here something we can use as lube?”

“Car oil?”

“I get you are new to this, but no.”

“Vaseline?”

Theon nodded and moved to the back seats while Robb started searching between the car drawers, searching for the little pot. From the back mirror he glanced at Theon's back, as he took off his shirt and clothes. He noticed again the cuts, that looked old, and yet, not that much.

A silk skin wrapped up and stained by rain is all that came to his mind.

Theon turned towards him and smirked, inviting, tempting.

Robb gulped loudly, then followed him. He looked around, hoping nobody would have passed from there, but Theon didn't leave him much time to reflect on it, since his hands were already around his crotch, unzipping his jeans and pulling his shaft out with greedy haste.

Robb tried to protest, as Theon, holding the base of the cock, started licking it, but his words fell in a chocked grunt.

Theon's mouth felt hot and soft against him, like a fiery velvet, his tongue licked his whole length, up to the head, making him writhe and bite his hand, then Theon would take him whole inside and suck and move up and down for a bit, before returning to licking him.

Robb cursed, pushing his hips, bucking.

Theon grinned and slowed the rhythm down, circling with his tongue the soft line of Robb's head, then sucking just that and teasing the tip, wet in precum. He smirked and then felt Robb's hand over his locks, and for a moment he expected him to just go, but Robb waited for a sign and Theon nodded, slowly, while sucking him dry. 

Robb jerked, his hips thrusting against Theon's mouth, filling it, pushing in.

Theon could feel his jaw aching delightfully, bliss pooling in the back of his throat as Robb's cock kept hitting it, mercilessly, rougher and stronger with every thrust. There was a delicate pain in there, like when one pushes a bruise or tears open again a healing wound – the pleasure, electrical, of Robb hitting him, bruising him, made Theon hard. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling in pleasure, while Robb moved inside him, fucking his mouth.

Theon moaned, his breath chocked up, his voice muffled mute from the thick cock pressing and pulling him open. Robb's precum, its strong taste, the smell of his pubic hair against his nose, the sensation of belonging to him, finally.

Robb's hips got stiffer, his grunt lower and Theon knew. As Robb's movement got rougher, faster, he could feel his cock throbbing and pulsing on his tongue, hard and desperate for release.

Robb arched his back, pushed his head back and, moving the hands away from Theon, almost slipped out. Oh, no, he was not letting him.

Theon passed his hand behind Robb, groping his ass, keeping him in, and sucked his head alight, making him come in a growled roar.

Theon chugged it down greedily, before letting Robb's now soft cock out, trails of cum and saliva forming little pearly strings out of his mouth. His eyes were still wet with desire.

Robb's breath was fire and sparks and a need still brimming low. The sight of Theon swallowing him and licking his lips made his knees weak and had the opposite effect on his junk.

Theon's lips were still wet as he raised his eyes and smirked, smug little thing.

“Who told you you could move away?”

Robb almost chocked down. “It's not like I was doing it for myself.”

“Sit.”, Theon said, in between a velvety order and an ardent plea.

Robb obliged as Theon started jerking him to complete hardness again and covered his whole length with the thick creamy lube. Theon opened his legs, divaricating them over Robb's lap, then put a hand on Robb's shoulder and covered his own fingers with the Vaseline and started sinking his fingers into his own ass.

Robb bit his lips to the pulp, hard and frustrated, wishing he could see that sight from the other side.

The first finger felt like nothing, the second made Theon whimper but not for long, at the third, Robb recognized a gleam of pleasure shining. The idea of Theon having that look with his cock made his balls tense up. Theon looked again down, considering if he needed a fourth, but at the sight of it, he decided he was not in the mood to wait further. He held onto Robb's shoulders and started slowly descending over Robb's cock, inch by inch his face getting redder and he suffocated moans.

Robb's hands were soon on his hips, as to accompany him, but also to keep him, and as his thumbs caressed Theon's iliac crest, he jolted a bit, jerked up, strangling an acute, wet moan.

A thrust.

Theon chocked up, stared down at him, as he could see himself touching Robb's abdomen, his balls resting over his crotch. He breathed out, something, mouth agape. Robb's hand gripped his hips, mean and strong, sinking into them deeply, making him moan out.

And his ass felt completely open. It didn't hurt, almost miraculously, but Theon could feel his walls pulled apart, his hole widened to the brink. And the sensation of Robb's thick, fleshy cock, pulling him, taking his space brutally inside him, tearing his hot flesh up, made his cock twitch.

Robb pulled him close by the waist, his fingers bruising him slightly, keeping him up in position at the same time.

His voice was huskier, rough and yet as sweet as honey.

“Tell me to stop if I overdo.”

Theon let out a breathless laugh, “Glad you're finally losing it.”

He almost bit his tongue at the first thrust. Robb's hips started moving fast immediately, leaving Theon barely the time to hold onto him, sinking his nails into his back.

Robb kept his hips in place, pushing him down and through him, thrusting deep and rough.

Theon's mouth fell open, his aching jaw pulsing still, while his raw flesh was set alight, pierced and torn with absolute pleasure. Robb licked his neck, long and slow, as if he were to soften his flesh and then pressed his lips on it, sucking Theon's neck right where his veins met – purple stained the pale skin, heat rolled through his blood, bliss dripped all over in unravelled high moans.

Robb stuffed Theon's mouth with his fingers and Theon sucked on them greedily, starting to move his hips too, fucking himself at the same rhythm Robb was thrusting, meeting him with harder, stronger pleasure. 

Robb's teeth felt sharp, cutting through him, tearing up his taste, letting purple and red marks bloom all over. 

Theon drew trenches of blood over Robb's back, earning back his tongue pushing through his mouth, eager and burning. Flavors melted, needs burnt up, his heart skipped beats, while his cock became more and more engorged, harder with every thrust Robb would fill him with.

The urgency of the compulsion, the pressure of the longing, the haste of the hunger – it made them desperate beasts.

With a strong thrust, Robb hit Theon's prostate, making him screamed out loud a drenched moan.

Robb's eyes shone and a little elated smile crossed his lips, as he realized.

He started hammering the sweet spot, making Thoen squirm and twist under his arms, his waist writhing, his hips riding back in need. Robb's ruthless hits were thunders through Theon's back, electric and intense.

He couldn't feel anything else than pure pleasure, rolling through him, breaking through his nerves and taking over.

He came in a shout and Robb didn't stop, pushing and banging harder, making Theon fall on his shoulders, almost fainted, coming again and again, until no drop of cum was still inside him, milked dry from bliss, his raw flesh fucked red.

He whined, his insides purring as Robb thrust into him; his swollen hard cock still feeling too big, pulling his ass open, until he came into him with a low growl.

Robb panted out and then his eyes went wide as he looked at Theon's neck and collarbones, tainted purple and red, and all the sperm laying on their stomachs.

“I didn't overdo, did I?”

Theon shook his head, weakly focusing on trying to answer, while the afterglow still rode his spine, making him dizzy and his eyes shiny.

“... christ, it was good.”, he breathed out.

Robb chuckled, embarrassed, “Well, if I ruined a fuck I had been waiting for since I was fourteen, that would have been really a fail.”

Theon glanced at him and smiled, shaking his head and then catching his lips in a smouldering kiss, their tongues searching for each other, violating lines and crossing outlines.

“We. We were waiting for.”, Theon corrected him, eyes closed.

And Robb knew what he meant.

  
  


 


	7. 7. Saturate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Nikki and Charlie who helped me with this chapter because I am missing a betareader.  
> Without their help and support it woudn't have been possible to put this on.  
> I already did write chapt 8, 9 and the epilogue, so they'll be on as soon as they'd be corrected.  
> Thank you for the patience you showed me in waiting, sadly Lemony Snicket seems to have taken over my life for now :') but the unfortunate events won't change my faith in happy endings.

_7\. Saturate_

 

* * *

 

Theon yawned, stretched up his arms and let out an half-meowed groan.

Sun shone high and annoying, yellowish the room, warming the sheets, stabbing his eyes. Theon sat up and rubbed his forehead, pushing his hair back.

“What time is it?”

“Ten!”, replied a small, squeaky voice next to him.

He turned and squinted his eyes, “...do you come here often?”

Bran snorted, “You and dad didn't wake up! - he pointed at Robb, behind him, still deep in the arms of Morpheus, with his characteristic snore – He makes a lot of noise...”

“He was worse at fourteen.”, Theon mumbled, trying to fight back a migraine.

Crap, which hour did they go to sleep last night? _Four or five in the morning?_

Bran blinked, surprise, “And how did he get better?”

“I punched him in the nose.”

“What?”

“... I punched his nose one night, because he was keeping me awake.”

Bran giggled, putting his hands over his mouth, “And did he wake up?”

“No. - Theon curled up his lips – He fell asleep more.”

Bran gave a little laugh, “But then you and daddy always slept together?”

“Well... no, then, it was a bit different, you know... it was like...”

He saw Bran tilting his head, “How?”

Crap.

He hated that part of the whole child deal: responsibility, communication, being... prudent.

With a strangled groan, he said, “Well, his bed was really small.”

Bran didn't seem to believe him but didn't complain.

“Did you have a nightmare tonight too?”

“I... - Theon licked his lips and cleared his throat – … you know, sometimes... grown-”

“Oh, watermelon!”

“...waterwhatnow?”

It took him a moment to realize it was some kind of curse-word substitution that probably Robb tried to give a chance to in order to avoid his child to say “fuck” constantly like them.

Bran jumped onto Theon, placing his little hand over the bruises on his neck and chest, pressing on them.

“How did you get these? Did you fall?”

_No, your dad gave them to me while fucking my ass. No, okay, not an acceptable reply to a child . No, your dad and I were playing wolf and slut. Still had improvements to do, hm... No, when two grown ups like each other very much and are in a car at night sometimes they do things to each other's genitals._

It thunderstruck him: he _did_ say to Robb he loved him.

Blood flushed on his cheek, the color of coral pouring and stinging on his skin.

“Ah, I just tripped. - Theon half-coughed, his chest clenching, shame taking him over as he realized he was more embarrassed from having feelings than from being asked by a child about hickeys – Your dad helped me.”

“Of course he would! - he grinned – My dad is like Superman! He also wears glasses sometimes!”

...what now?

Theon puffed, snorting, “Really?”

“He doesn't see well at the computer, but it's a secret!”, Bran warned him, very clearly.

“I'll keep it then. - as he ruffled little Bran's hair something flashed through him - … shouldn't you be at school now?”

Bran shrugged, “You were sleeping, and the rule don't go around alone overcomes the school is important one.”, he said, simply, as if he was trying to remember and repeat the exact words of someone else.

That kid was a blessing, really.

Theon smiled, “Well, if you want to go, I can bring you.”

“It's okay, I was going to leave early anyway today.”

“...why?”

Bran blinked, as if he thought Theon had to know.

“Lunch with grandma!”

For a long, desperate second Theon hoped to have to meet Jeyne Westerling's mother.

“... grandma like daddy's mom?”

“Yes! - Bran replied, shouting a bit, like it was so obvious – Daddy said you'd come too!”

Theon smiled, then glared at Robb's sleeping body.

“...isn't it amazing how adults sometimes take decisions for other adults without consulting them?”

Bran frowned, offended, “I don't know all the words.”

Theon shook his head, sighing, “I don't think I'm going to come, little one, I have some job interviews.”

Bran threws his arms down and let out a shrieking whine of disappointement, eyes full of tears.  
“Why?”

“...because society asks me to work to survive?”, Theon tried.

Brandon crossed his arms, “You can do it another day! Why don't you want to come?”

And Theon decided to try to be honest with the little one.

He sighed.

“...your grandma Cat doesn't really... adore me.”

“Adore?”

“To like something a lot a lot.”

Bran frowned, “But daddy does...”

“...sometimes moms don't understand that stuff. - he sighed, caressing Bran's little arms, making him relax them – And I am not sure if your daddy likes me more than he likes his mom.”

Bran blinked, “Grandma never comes here.”

“...uh?”

“Grandma is upset because mommy left.”

Theon swallowed up and tried to smile. If someone told him ten years ago he would have had found himself defending Catelyn Stark's opinions on him, he would have laughed enough to break a rib.

“You know... grandmas are very old. They come from a time where people didn't really...”

“Divorce?”, Bran asked, abruptly.

Theon blinked, much to Bran's offence.

“I know the word! It is when two people split.”

“Yes, right, h... - he groaned, awkwardly – So, umh, they think being together makes you always happy, you know? So she just wanted your dad to be happy.”

“But dad was not happy with mom.”

“How can you say that? - Theon laughed, ruffling his hair – This is not stuff a kid understands.”

“... when you are happy, you smile. - he insisted, stubborn, pointing at Robb's face – He smiles a lot. He is happy.”

“But it's not the same, me and your mom.”

“Why not?”

Theon considered punching Robb to wake him up and save him from the whole situation but from the volume of the snore, he guessed he was nowhere near being awake.

He licked his lips and sighed.

“Your mom was... we knew each other in high school, you know?”

“Really?”, Bran widened his eyes and moved closer to listen.

Theon sighed, “She... - he chuckled – She always had a bunch of friends and she went to church but also to parties and she had flowerly pink dresses and long hair that probably smelled like fairyfloss.”

Bran raised an eyebrow, perplexed, and squinted his eyes really hard.

“-yes?”

“Isolde doesn't have many friends either. - Bran said, quickly – And she has this girl, in class, Angelica, like her mom is friend with aunt Sansa, anyway... she has tons of friends but she is not funny, she never makes nice jokes, and she doesn't know what a Power Ranger is. She just likes the pink one cause it's a girl.”

“...wasn't the yellow one a girl?”

“You seem really confused. - Bran pointed out, then returned to his speech – How many friends you have doesn't tell anything! Isolde has me and Nico and Jiggly and she is still way funnier than Angelica.”

Theon made an effort to remember who Nico was. Probably Isolde's cousin, the one so blonde and with such beautiful sapphire eyes, Sansa ranted about to him some time before.

Bran interpreted that confused look as him not understanding and he put his hands on Theon's cheeks, much as his father did, at times, and stared down at Theon with his big young hazel eyes, copper as his wild curls.

“You are good even if you're not mom. - he said, firm – My mom is sweet and good and dad says she is studying to become a doctor and that's extra cool, but it was no fun before you.”

Theon rubbed his hair.

“Thank you.”

“It's okay. - he patted Theon's shoulders as a big boy – Now we have to wake up daddy, though, we have to buy the cake.”

“Hm... I have a better idea.”

Bran blinked, “Like?”

“...do you wanna go on an adventure?”

 

*

 

When Robb woke up, it was half past one, which would have normally made him feel guilty, his head heavy and the legs numbed. Instead, he woke up with a smile, rolling on his side to hug Theon tight, kissing... the pillow? He frowned, disoriented and bothered, opening his eyes slowly.

The bed was empty.

He sighed.

Of course.

Of course. He licked his lips and bit them.

Of course, it had been all in his head.

He rubbed his eyes between thumb and index and sighed, pressing against his nose to avoid tearing up. He glanced on the other side, where the bed ended and he was supposed to grab his clothes and go on with his life.

Bran's laugh echoed from the kitchen.

Robb ordered himself to wear a smile, to cuddle his son and to keep it together. He grabbed some pajama pants, glancing at the clock, then a shirt, and ruffled his own hair, combing them through his fingertips, moving to the kitchen space and...

Theon Greyjoy, apron covered in white flour, was explaining to an extremely focused little Bran how to crack an egg in half and separate yolk and white by making the yolk dance between the two shell fragile cupolas. Bran was smiling wide, impressed, because to him, it looked almost like a circus trick.

Theon Greyjoy was real.

And... very much purple on his neck.

He was keeping his long hair in a bun, to avoid them spilling in the dough, and Robb couldn't stop but staring at his marks with a certain pride.

Theon peeked and saw him, then curled his lips and turned to Bran.

“Should we put cherries or blackberries in, hm?”

“Both!”, Bran claimed, extremely convinced.

“Both seems very good.”

“So... - Robb laughed – What are my boys doing here?”

Bran turned, jumped down from the chair and ran to hug his father's legs tight, then, always jumping, squirreled out, “Theon is teaching me to make the chocolate cake!”.

“ _A_ chocolate cake.”, Theon clarified from the background.

Bran nodded, looking at his father as if he had discovered aliens, “There are maaany types!”

“How many?”,Robb asked, picking him up.

“So many, Theon had a book and he made me pick!”

“And which did you pick, champ?”

Theon smirked, mixing up the cream, “Your favorite.”

“The Asha cream roulade!”

Bran frowned, “What's an asha?”

Robb smiled, “Theon's sister, Asha, used to make this chocolate cream roulade with fruit every time I'd sleep there, it didn't happen often and she wanted to make it special. - he laughed, glancing at Theon, then shaking his head – The only thing she could ever cook actuall... - the color on Theon's cheeks betrayed him as he kept mizing, his hands shaking a bit now – _Oh_.”

Theon let out a strangled sound.

“No need for big revelation speeches.”

“What? What?”, Bran asked, pulling his father's t-shirt curious.

Theon raised his eyes, “I was the one baking it, not Asha.”

“Oh! - Bran exclaimed, blinking – And why didn't you say it?”

Robb sighed, kissing Bran's forehead, “Because his father didn't want him to bake. He found it girly.”

Bran seemed outraged, “Isolde is a girl and she can't cook!”.

“I know, beanie, but... sometimes people are silly.”

“My dad was often silly.”, Theon added in, pouring the mix in a mold and inserting it in the warm oven.

Silly was not exactly the word Theon's would have used.

A motherfucking conservative idiot, abusive to the core, without any love for anyone different from him: now, that would have been closer.

But he didn't want to be angry at his father anymore. He didn't deserve his attention.

“That's dumb...”, Bran noticed, then kicking to make his dad know he wanted to be left down and, as he did, he went to Theon and claimed, loudly, “We are baking and we are still boys.”

“Aaaand... - Theon said, with a grin, feeding Bran a ripe blackberry – It's very useful with girls.”

Bran now looked just confused.

“Like?”

“A boy who can cook is always popular with girls.”

“...is this why you make it? So grandma Cat will like you?”, Bran asked.

Robb went pale, as if only then he remembered he was supposed to speak to Theon about that, but Theon looked fairly less worried and angry than he would have imagined, in fact, he winked at little Bran said, grinning, “That's the plan.”

Robb smiled, shy, hopeful, “... you really don't mind?”

“Just, tell me what to say about the elephant in the room.”

Robb came close and held Theon by his hips, pulling him close, cupping his cheek, caressing the tight up hair. He glanced at his lips and jawline, at the big shoulders marked by him the night before.

“I think my family is all old enough to accept it.”

Theon glanced at Bran, who was picking a bit of cherries from the bowl, and whispered, “But he can't yet.”

Robb sighed, “Okay, fine, I'll wait for him, but... but my mother has sort of known I was in love with you since I was thirteen, I think she can decide to accept it.”

Theon snorted, “You just want to brag it's finally happening, isn't it?”

Robb opened his mouth and smiled, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and tilting his head back, “A bit.”, he admitted.

Theon pushed a bit forward and kissed him on the nose.

When Robb tried to kiss him back, Theon put a finger on his lips. He smirked, charming.

“Tu-tut, be G.”

Robb groaned and walked up to Bran, grabbing him up and suggesting they'd go to put on a movie while Theon was going to finish cooking.

Bran sat good and quiet between his father's legs, enjoying a juice box and singing loudly, clapping to the songs and demanding with his big bambi eyes for his father to join him.

Theon shook his head, looking at them with a smile.

He kept feeling, though, in his guts a creeping sense of guilt.

Like he stole that happiness from someone.

Because he did, after all, didn't he?

“Tell her the truth!”, the TV yelled out, in an advice he felt like puking at.

 

*

 

Catelyn Stark opened the door with a glare hidden under the sweetest smile.

“Robb, just in time! - she then glanced down to Bran, accurately avoiding to lay her eyes on Theon – Hello, little prince charming.”

Bran smiled with his whole mouth pulled up.

“Is Isolde already here?”

“Yes, you may run to play with her...”

Bran skyrocketed into the house, followed only by the weak plea of his dad about not running because he could fall. Catelyn finally looked at Theon, then at how awkwarldy he was holding a box.

“Fridge?”

Theon nodded, then tried to give one of his smirks, which came out more nervous than charming, but did its effect and Catelyn guided them in. Sansa tried to raise from the sofa, but Tyrion stopped her, with a hand on her own, “If they have to bow for me, they can bow for you.”.

Robb agreed, bowing to both of them, instead than with the usual head gesture accompanying this time with a full on movement of the arm as if he was a knight. Theon snorted loudly and moved to Sansa.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes, it was just a big scare. - she glanced at Tyrion, holding her hand – She is gonna be healthy and probably a football player, given how much she kicks.”

“Hopefully she won't inherit my height.”

“Considering it has to come out of me, I would have actually appreciated it.”

Theon blinked, confused. Those two were... joking around it genuinely? He remembered when Tyrion was impossible to be around, always throwing the dwarf thing around, as a shield, and as if he expected people to mock him.

...now he said it just to make Sansa laugh.

A little smile came on his face, when Bran and Rickon arrived in the room. Bran looked skinnier than before, after the accident, he never really put on muscles, but he did look healthy, his cheeks rosy and his eyes bright and curious. He remembered sometimes helping him in math, when Robb had crisis with numbers.

Rickon was... well, impossible to recognize, but very similar to how Robb was his age, expect for the bigger squarier nose and the big shoulders he got from Ned. He also had more freckles than Robb and looked way more fond of weight-lifting.

“Dude! - Rickon grinned, jumping beyond Bran and shaking his hand almost painfully enthusiastically – It's been like centuries!”

Bran waved his hand from behind his younger brother, almost awkwardly.

Theon cleared his voice, “Ah, I've just... returned so...”

Bran glimpsed at Robb, as he was in the kichten, helping their mother with the last preparations. He looked at his brother's mood.

He had not been like that since way before Jeyne's divorce.

“I'm glad to see this time you didn't lose time around.”

Theon frowned and tried to protest but Rickon slammed one of his way too big hands on his shoulder, “Dude, don't try to deny it here, we all saw it coming.”

“You are actually... twelve years late on our most pessimistic guess.”

“Guess?”, Theon turned to Sansa, confused.

She grinned, “We might have bet on how long it would have taken you two to finally get together.”

“... this is the most embarrassing thing...”

“You clearly never saw yourselves from the outside pining uselessly.”, Arya mumbled, bringing in the living room a huge bowl full of some deliciously-smelling irish dish.

Tyrion stood up and clapped a hand on Theon's hip, almost comforting.

“If it makes you feel any better, they really like you.”

Theon chuckled out a bitter, “Could you blame them?” that didn't manage to sound heartfelt.

Tyrion glanced down, then at Sansa, “I wonder the same too, but until it works...”

Theon tried to smile, but it vanished as Catelyn came from the kitchen door and, quiet stiffly, cleared her voice, “Theon, could you come with me a moment in the kitchen, please?”

Robb ran away from it and instead invited everyone to start sitting down, and made sure to put the kids close to each other, so they could chat.

Theon entered the kitchen with terror running through his veins. He coughed and smirked, “Mrs Stark, had I known you wanted some time alone with me, I would ha...”

She raised an eyebrow, sceptical, “You don't need to do the thing, Theon.”

“Uh?”

“You always had a thing for married women, but now I'm a bit too old for you. - she smiled knowingly, taking out a bottle of whiskey and pouring herself a glass, which she chugged down a quick flint – I don't like you.”

Theon swallowed, looking down on the ground and giving a little grin, “I guessed that.”

“Do you know why?”

“Because... of my MILF addiction? Terrible presence? Bad rock music? The probable hotbed for STDs in my teenage pants?”, Theon tried, trying to sound as enchanting as possible while digging his own grave.

Catelyn shook her head, rinsing her mouth with a bit more of alcohol, then sighed, and leant on the fridge.

“You were a terrible influence on Robb, of course, but... my fear... was that he would have taken a fancy to you. - she admitted – I saw how he looked at you and I thought: that little Danny Zuko will never make my boy happy.”

Theon sucked his lips, mortified.

How to blame her?

“And, you did break his heart. - she sighed, glancing at him – I knew that, he told Ned.”

“What?”

“Right before he died. Robb came out to us and said he was planning to divorce Jeyne. - she sat on the chair of the kitchen table – I, his father told him not to because... she was his responsibility and he had made a promise, but I... all I could think was “it happened anyway”. - her fingers held the glass and trembled – I tried everything to keep you apart when I first noticed and Robb wouldn't listen to me, stubborn as a mule. - a laugh – Once he climbed out from the window to meet you. - she put the glass on the table, then her eyes met Theon – You hurt him when you said no and he was so happy when... when he still didn't have a clear answer, you know... like that song, how does it go? _Since you gave me a straight answer_... ah, he kept listening to it when he started dating Jeyne. Not a promising love song.”

“Mrs Stark, I-”

She raised a hand, stopping him, then breathed in, “He was so hapyp when Bran was born, but... I could still see that boy, singing that song to himself. And now, now he walks into my kitchen with... with the smile he had at seventeen. - she bit her lips to keep herself from doing something undignified – I don't like you and I'm not sure I'll ever get what he sees in you, but... thank you for making my boy happy again.”

Theon gave a small, sour, awkward laugh, while looking at the kitchen corner.

Catelyn put a hand on his shoulders, “Also, I notice you learnt to wear turtlenecks.”

She softened, not smiling, but not looking upset. Rather, relieved.

And Theon relaxed too.

Somehow, as he stepped in the livingroom and saw everyone being happy and Robb saving a chair for him, right between him and Bran, it didn't feel bad. It didn't feel forced.

It felt natural.

And Theon didn't know natural could feel good.

He didn't know he could deserve that.

For a few hours, he felt at home. They had irish food and Cat spoke about Ireland with tears in her eyes and how she would have wanted to see that sea, her sea once again, and she smiled at Ned's photograph near the chimney. And Rickon spoke about his school and bickered with Bran about how to spell some words and on why throwing the football ball didn't count as calculating physics trajectory. Arya spoke bit about how she was starting a rock band and how that drummer boy was so annoying and irritating but she curled up her lips speaking about him. Isolde was eating with some sort of earplugs and Bran was making sure to eat all her cranberries and peas because she didn't like small round food.

Sansa smiled at him, tenderly.

She seemed to ask if he could see how well it went, in the end.

His hands trembled and Robb put his own over the right one.

That warmth, that warmth Theon was not ready to give up – he knew it probably shouldn't have belonged to him.

It didn't. It wouldn't had.

If he had known...

He wondered if Ramsay would have made his usual grimace, if he could have seen him. He could almost picture him, there, sitting in front of him, where Arya was.

His lips like swollen mold, his eyes like dirty glass.

_Screw me open, keep me whole._

_A nail in, a tooth out._

_We'd dance in the moonlight, but I'd blind myself to pretend you were someone else._

“ _You think you belong here? - his rotten bile yellow teeth shone sharp as razors – You think he'd want you if he knew?”_

Theon clenched the tablecloth. His throat closing.

“ _You think he'd fuck your ass knowing all that's been in? Do we want to remember all I pushed in you, darling?”_

“Theon?”, Robb voice echoed empty and blue.

“ _My cock, of course, and also my pee. You enjoyed being my toilet, didn't you? Then, a rifle, bottles, a flashlight, and not to forget our...”_

Theon's breath got irregular, sharp, and cut through the air. His Adam's apple got stuck, tensed up.

“Theon, are you okay?”

“ _What's wrong, Theon? - his breath, he could feel his breath, he could feel his laugh like a dirty film on his bones, his rancid milk eyes – My reeking slut.”_

Robb stood up and turned him, staring at him. Theon knew he was there, but couldn't see him, not really.

Ramsay's face emerged, like a cement ghost, between them, sinister and cold like the sleek slimy feeling of melting sour ice, old on the windows, dirty and watered.

“ _You don't belong there. You are a wreck, a mess, a carcass. - he pouts, almost girly, making a fake sad face – Did you really think he could accept you back? But he can't, right? Not if he knew the truth.”_

Robb tried to slap him awake. His cheek stung, but Theon didn't bulge. Sansa touched Tyrion's arm, all he could hear was the word “doctor”.

“ _If he knew what you told me, Reek... what you told me...”_

“Theon!”

“ _You told me you loved me, remember?”_

As a second slap burnt on his cheek, tingling and pulsing, Theon jolted awake, Robbs staring at him in worry, his hand as red as his cheek, shivering. Bran was crying, his little hands over his eyes, covered in snot, tears, panic. Isolde started to look in the void and uncle Bran trying to hold her wrist and calm her before she'd meltdown.

It was his fault.

It was all his fault.

“I, I'm sorry, I-”

“What happened?”, Robb asked, holding his hand.

He seemed about to break.

Did he make Robb that sad already? Again?

“Oh, maybe he just needs some fresh air. - Tyrion claimed, descending from his chair and moving towards Theon, offering him a hand – We will be back after a couple of cigarettes, calm the children. - he turned to Catelyn – I'm sorry to deprive you of the presence of your two most beloved guests, we will be quick.”

 

*

 

The cigarette tasted sour and dry – there was not the usual round sweetness to it.

All the bitter of the flame fired up to him.

Theon sighed, breathing out, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall of the porch. He remembered drinking wysteria flowers falling in his beers when Robb and him were young.

“Better?”

“I'd hoped for a joint instead of a cigarette.”

“I'm not that type of college professor. - Tyrion pointed out – I only suggest alcohol and laids. They don't fuck up your brain.”

“I see.”, Theon mumbled, breathing in and out slowly.

The smoke was dull and white as it climbed to the sky.

“So, what happened?”

“Bad memories.”, he blurted out, looking away. He almost forgot how the street looked like. That lamplight, he used to wave at Robb from under, the pink house of the neighbour, the trees filled with fat chestnuts in their spiked beds.

Tyrion glanced at him.

“You know that my cock is very thick?”

Theon chuckled, turning, “...not that I never received offers from married men, but given the situation...”

“Very funny. - he commented, lighting up a cigarette – ...when I was a kid, at times, my sister would twist it or pinch it for fun.”

Theon at first was wounded at the thought and stiffened. Then he remembered his own brothers, drunk, punching him bruised.

“...the joys of siblings, uh?”

“Sansa told me your family had not been better than mine. - Tyrion sucked the cigarette, delicately and yet strongly, his fingers keeping it still while it burnt slowly – I do realize, at time, seeing them so.. happy can feel alienating.”

Theon shrugged.

Tyrion glimpsed at him, unsure when to strike then, with his voice as soft as its husky tone would allow, he tried.

“I also am pretty much able to recognize when someone is seeing something that is not there.”

Theon chuckled away, “I was not hallucinating.”

“Hallucinations, dissociations, panic attacks, flashbacks... those are all terms I am not confident the difference of. - he glared and, for a moment, the difference between his eyes seemed almost soothing, as if he held both inside the posion and the antidote – But you looked about to puke from looking in the void and that doesn't seem like it can make it in the top ten in the enterteining activities during family dinner charts.”

Theon swallowed up.

“If you want to say something, just do it.”

Tyrion sighed and opened his wallet, then handled Theon a little white business card - “Davos Seaworth, Therapist” and a phone number – and couple bills, big, as he couldn't remember ever having held before.

“What...”

“It's mine. - he mumbled up – When, when Sansa and I had Izzie, I was... facing some fears about being unable to be a good father, given my family's terrible example. Maybe he will help you too.”  
“I can't accept, I... - Theon tried to snicker but the wounded pride made his voice angry and metallic – I don't want charity.”

“Then don't accept it. - Tyrion mumbled, standing up, then moving towards the door – But it seems to me you had just stopped making shitty decisions out of pride and vulnerability, you might want to keep this new lifestyle up.”

Theon stared at the card.

“ _Tell the truth.”_

That's what that therapist would probably suggest: to open up with Robb, to tell him his humiliating story, tell him about Ramsay, about... he fought back the urge to puke again.

_Tell the truth, sure, and risk to lose him again?_

He could almost see Ramsay on the porch, he would have laughed at him, wouldn't he? _“You told me you loved me, remember?”_

_I lied you to stop you... I lied to make you stop... I just wanted you to not touch me anymore._

“ _How can you know?”_

_You make me sick._

_His hands would have run on his body and send shivers and goosebumps of horror and fear. “Oh, but, doesn't this make it worse? Aren't you even more of a lying whore without any pride to stick to?” . His tongue would have ride inside his ear, like a wet slug, like an infection._

_My pride... you took it all away._

“ _Did you have any to start with?”_

_I had no choice._

“ _Your sister wouldn't have said it, Theon.”, Ramsay whispered, tempting, almost sensual, while his voice morphed into his father's._

He stuffed the business card in his pocket and entered back in the house, following Tyrion, putting on his best smirk.

It was almost funny how the worst he felt the easier it was to act.

It came natural by then.

Like a corset, deforming you nicely, shaping your bones in what anyone else wants to see.

Like a corset, you just get used to it, no?

He looked at Robb and Robb smiled at him like he had found the garden of Eden.

“ _Tell the truth”_.

 

*

 

Bran fell in a sleep heavy as stones, filled up to the belly with cake, holding his pillow tight tight. Robb caressed his hair before leaving him to rest and head to the kitchen, where Theon was sighing over a cup of coffee with a bit too much baileys in.

“How was he?”

“Fine. - Robb granted, opening the fridge to find some cold water – I think he really didn't understand what was going on...”

Theon stared in the black cup and leant on his arm, pensive.

Robb sat next to him, “...and he is not the only one.”

Theon glanced up, his look pending, hanging, dying on Robb's parted lips.

“I feel useless. - Theon admitted, even though that was not the real problem – I feel inadequate to be part of... that table full of people with their lives together.”

Robb raised an eyebrow and a small smile bent the corner of his lips.

“I am divorced.”, he suggested.

“That's not really a failure, no offence.”

“And yours would be? You followed your dreams, it didn't go well, but... - a sigh – You tried to be yourself. I just... shut up and acted for years.”

Theon's hand trembled around the cup holder.

Suddenly he felt cold.

Maybe he really needed to say how things were.

Maybe he could be worthy of love anyway. Even if he was just himself.

A ring made them turn to the door. At that time? Full evening? It made no sense.

Robb checked the mobile, wondering if maybe someone asked him if they could pass or something, but there was just silence – he went to the door and opened it with fear tingling in him.

“Hey.”

She smiled tenderly and she still had the same eyes the color of hazelnuts.

Like Bran.

Theon died seeing her back.

Yes, it all made sense. How dared he hope? How dared he think he had a place?

She smiled at him and he held no grunge. How to hate someone who is pure when you are just rotten pieces put together with a glue of regret, trash and disgust?

“I – Jeyne turned to Robb and he looked at her relieved and happy that Theon felt the urge to puke – I came back.”

“...do you want me to wake Bran up?”, Robb asked, nervously.

“No, no. - she granted in a smile – I, I will see him tomorrow... right now I just wanted to see you.”

Theon stood up with a bitter chuckle and a sharp grin.

“Oh, well, I'll go out a bit, so you two can talk decently.”

Robb turned to say something, but no protest exited his lips.

And Theon slammed the door behind himself.

 

 


	8. 8. Schism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank again Charley and Nikki for the huge help! And you all for commenting!!

_8\. Schism_

 

* * *

 

 

The streets reminded him of other times, times when solitude was expected and met as the standard, when sex didn't mean much and it didn't have stickers of fake candycoated promises attached to it.

The pale azure light of dawn, dropping lilac and rose rays on the dew, seemed to sting and cut deeper than he could remember being vulnerable.

There was not much more to him left intact than that, after all.

He was a fragment, a thing just put there into space, nor meant nor destined to interact.

He was not meant to love or being loved and that he always knew pretty well.

You just know when your heart is rotten.

You feel it, it's easy to see or to just taste – like bad, rancid milk or a putrid meat, it gets filled with sourness and it tastes like putrefaction and death. And it brings no good.

And Theon was like that.

And Robb was sweet, Robb was the spring and the sun and all the pretty glass on the beach softened by the currents and letting lights shine through. He was a kiss that would never end, tender as the promise of a child.

And Bran.

Bran needed his mother, didn't he?

It was better like that. It just made sense for it to be like that.

He sighed and sat on the asphalt still wet from the night, shining fake onyx. That light almost almost made him feel like pyrite.

He wished time could go back to before he was that desperatedly in love, he wished he could feel something more than the bitter drops creeping from his cracks.

The Japanese had this tradition – the kintsugi – of fixing shitty cuts and shatters together with gold, there was beauty in that thunder scar crossing the flesh and leaving it whole, supposedly.

But he had no gold.

He had mold.

All over inside him, moving and pleading to come out.

How did a deformed heart taken over by decomposition still hurt that much? Shouldn't it... at least not feel?

Like Ramsay.

Ramsay didn't feel a damn thing.

… Was he a creature inferior even to him, wasn't he?

That was his terrible fucked up, disgusting truth. But it made sense. It made sense for him.

When the bus stopped in front of him, Theon almost didn't see it.

 

*

 

The door opened with a familiar creak and a tired squeal. The door and the iron grip seemed to be almost dust, while the windows were covered in a grey patina and scratches.

“...You came back.”

She whispered it, unsure how to realize.

Her eyes shone and she trembled, the bags under her eyes heavy with all the lakes she cried. She was skinnier than she ever was and more tired. She shivered and held back a sob, that echoed up through her whole body as if it were a little cave.

Theon forced out a smile, “You look old as fuck...”

“Jerk.”, she whispered, throwing her arms around his neck and helding him tight.

Asha cried against his pale neck, almost making him fall even with her little weight.

He caressed her black hair and whispered, “You are a lame older sister. Where is your cool?”

“Shut up...”, she warned, between the tears.

Her last brother.

Her last piece of family.

She sunk her nails into him, “I thought you died...”

Theon glanced away, holding her back.

Would have it mattered?

For real?

“I can't stay for long.”, he whispered, moving away.

Asha almost fell, as if, once again, her body was between sea and wind, with no ground.

Not that she could ever count on any, but for a moment, it felt good to have the illusion.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the city. - he explained in a tense grin – I have things to do, I... came here just for a trip.”

A trip in let's try to have a happy life with an almost healthy relationship?

Yeah, not for him.

He tried, though.

“Oh.”, she looked confused.

“I wanted to bring mom some flowers though. - He let out, his voice hoarse and dry – But I forgot which she liked.”

Asha glanced up to him, then down again. He grew taller, but got leaner. And tired.

Somehow, they looked more like brother and sister then than ever before.

“I can come with you, if you want.”

Theon nodded weakly with a sign of his head.

“Sure.”

Asha nodded and pointed her thumb to the room behind her, “I'll... get my jacket, and come... do you want some breakfast or?”

“I'm not hungry.”, he smiled at her.

She glanced at his dirty shoes, and then went in without an extra word, coming out after some minutes with a coat and a thermos full of unsweetened black coffee. Theon looked at her a long while, but didn't know what to say or how to talk to her.

She turned on the car's motor and made him sit in the front, which before was sort of forbidden , but maybe she hoped that little thing would make it harder for him to leave her behind.

Once it would have.

Now, he knew, though, that there was no place for him. There was no place for him in the world.

“So, um, are you dating someone?”

She glanced at him, not sure why he was fond of small talk now.

“...we broke up some days ago, actually.”

“Oh.”

“Happens.”

Theon frowned, “How come?”

“I was behaving like dad.”, she admitted in a breath glancing in the mirror to check behind them, as she entered the highway.

Theon chuckled out, “At least, you could be like him.”

“I'd rather be mom. She was... kind. Her boldness, her...edge, she never used it to hurt others.”

He sighed, drowning in the seat, “I find it hard to believe you did.”

“I can be too proud.”, she glanced at her mobile phone and sniffed away a tear popping in her eyes.

Calling is useless when the other one doesn't want to listen to you, isn't it?

It's almost as stupid as visiting a tomb.

“The florist near the cemetery usually has lilies.”

“She liked those?”

“Yes. - Asha replied, her voice chocking up as she saw a glimpse of Theon in the car next to her and felt him real, just for a bit – She liked orange lilies.”

The dawn melted away in a pale sun that warmed nothing.

 

*

 

Robb glanced at his phone again, moved it in his hands, passed it through his fingers and almost threw it against the wall.

Jeyne put a hand on his shoulders, murmuring, soothingly, “He will come back.”

“Why did he leave without this? - Robb blurted out, between a plea, a yell, a prayer, a wince – Why doing it if he wanted to come back?”

“Maybe he is just a bit hurt, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come back without warning.”

“This is your house! – He yelled, throwing the phone against the wall and smashing it – You can come when you want and he knew, he knew, and now why is he hurt? What did I do wrong?”

“Robb...”, Jeyne placed a hand on his forehead and caressed his hair gently, calming him and then led him to the sofa.

“I'm sorry, I...”

“Try to calm down. - she whispered, kissing his forehead, holding his hand – If you love each other, it can't end like this?”

“Really? - Robb turned, with a metallic laugh, eyes full of tears – Because it did before.”

“What?”

Robb shook his head and bit his lip to the pulp.

He could feel the iron taste of his own warm blood. It was sour and sickening and yet round, inviting. He glanced down to the floor filled with the pieces of the corpse of Theon's mobile.

He was stupid in throwing it, but, for just a second, it vibrated in his veins, this sensation, that maybe, perhaps, if it broke, it would have freed him.

He would have been shattered too.

And shattered things don't suffer anymore.

“Maybe only I love him. Maybe he just... he thinks he loved me and he tried and then...”

“Robb. - Jeyne held his hand – You can't decide this on your own, without him.”

“Well, where is he?”, he shouted, moving her hand away and standing up.

He moved to the door, but as his hand was on the handle, he couldn't bring himself to open it.

Jeyne walked to him and took his hands in her own, “He just needs space and time, he'll come back.”

“...but I don't need space and time from him.”

His lips quivered, his shoulders dropped. More blood dripped from his lips and nose, while he let himself fall on the floor, slowly, his back againstthe door, his head staring at the ground.

“I had enough time without him, it haunted me, made me tired and bitter and sad. - he cried out, like a child, his breath accelerating like a war drum without hope for rest, his heartbeat about to drop – I missed him, I missed him every day. - He glanced at her – And it's so cruel to tell you this, Jey, I'm sorry... I... I love him, I love him and now I lost him without even being able to... - His cheeks flared up the color of his hair, while the tears fell on the floor and he started sobbing, hiding his face between his hands – I missed him so much, I missed him all my life.”

Jeyne took a step back, then looked at the broken phone, at the still closed door of Bran's room and sat down next to Robb.

“It's early to decide he went away for good, so look... go around, search for him, stay at the station to wait if you need... I'll be here with Bran.”

Robb blinked, “I couldn't ask you this.”

Jeyne smiled, “You took care of him all this time because of my studies. I guess I can take care of him while you get your typical romantic movie race to the airport, don't you think?”

“How... - Robb shook his head, flinching – How do you not hate me?”

She scoffed, “I don't know, because it would be useless, I guess. - She smiled – Also, I can't. - she caressed his tears away – Now, go. When you two come back, Bran and me will be here on the sofa, waiting for you two for a hug.”

He swallowed, “And... about the thing we discussed before...?”

Jeyne sighed and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, right before looking at him again, smiling.

“I'll be back here as soon as I finish my studies, and, yes, I want to be in Bran's life. I was not a good mom but I care for him, a lot. - She looked at her hands, her belly and then the room, a smile rose on her lips – I missed him so... but I know you are the one who actually wanted him. I loved him as I could, but you... - she shook her head, still cleaning Robb's face from the tears – You wanted that kid so much you were ready to hide yourself for years and years.”

“That's cowardice.”

“Perhaps it's not brave. - Jeyne snorted – But you had to endure much, it requires strength too. - she swallowed up – He deserves a parent who would sacrifice his happiness for him, not one who would do it for someone else and then silently blame him... and I was... I was blaiming him inside.”

“You should have blamed me...”

“Of course. - She admitted – But I loved you so... I couldn't say no. And instead I... I just grew angry at a poor child.”

“Jey', I-”

She shook her head, looking at the door, “...we were shitty and childish and selfish. That kid deserves someone who'd walk out of this door if he thought he was in between a family.”

Robb frowned, “You think that he...”

“I think he never felt very wanted. He always looked so sad under that... - she gestured to her face – That mask of smirks...”

Robb glances at his hands.

At the mobile's shards.

His palm hurt, bones and veins filled in an electrical cramp.

He stood up and rushed out of the door.

 

*

 

As first thing, he rushed to the diner where they met again, but there was nobody. Then he decided to go to the supermarket, checking if he was buying some cheap food before leaving, he glanced at the clock and moved to the station.

There were not many trains for the city he could take... it was worth a try.

The station was crowded in copper and coats, in leather bags and serious men, in rushing families and tensed looks. It smelled like coffee and rushed time.

It was a stirring wheel and clockworking sadness.

He looked on the platform and ran over the train, checking all the passengers faces, hoping to recognize Theon in one of them. Then he turned around and returned to look around, desperate, as a deer with a hunter already in its ribs.

It was cold like a dagger, that void.

There was no Theon anywhere in sight.

Nowhere. No trace.

His heart failed.

It dropped.

He could hear the shards hitting the ground. And its flesh melted and its blood dripped out slowly, in drapes of dismembered dreams.

He fell on a bench on the waiting platform, staring at the train leaving without Theon on.

He lost him.

Again.

 

*

 

Theon got off from the bus, welcoming the hurtful sour scent of the city air. The smoke almost fell nauseating after the countryside.

He wore his smile one more time, while walking to his familiar street.

Stripes, he could remember crossing before easily and then with so much difficulty, with his knees burdened and bruised, with Jeyne between his malnourished arms.

Lamplights, he remembered seeing from the window, with little round pigeons kissing on their top, thinking how sweet it would have been to see him again. It had been sweet, after all.

And like all sweet things, it ended quickly.

He saw the old shops and the factory he had to cross beyond. He glanced at the tram – how many times did he fantasize about jumping on it to run away?

Oh, but it didn't change anything, did it?

He was right.

He had always been.

“ _This is the only place where you can be.”_

He rang the bell, waiting.

“ _Nobody else will ever want you.”_

The man opened, his eyes going wide. Surprise, horror, happiness? It all got stuck in his stomach and punched him through.

For a moment, beyond the hungry wrinkle next to his nose, there, he seemed to have a tear in his eyes.

Theon glanced at him, “... this is the only place where I can be.”

It was welcoming, almost soothing.

Ramsay grinned, moving to the side, taking solace, almost aroused, in seeing Theon walking in of his own will.

He closed the door behind them and grabbed Theon by the waist, Ramsay's hands so swollen and big and round, Theon felt like a bear was clawing through him.

Theon didn't wince, he just looked at him.

He couldn't even be terrified anymore.

There was a time he had feared Ramsay, he had hated him, he had despised him. Now there was a time, a new one, in which he accepted he didn't deserve anything else.

He was not made for anything else.

Was he?

He moved a hand to Ramsay's face – the scars looked worse, as if he had taken on himself what he couldn't inflict to anyone, and his eyes were the same dull color of licked clean bones. He stroke him.

“I want to make a deal, this time.”

Ramsay's eyes shone and he frowned. He was not fond of compromise, but something looked different in this Theon – he was no more his toy, he had been away for too long, he looked healthy and healed, he had escaped once...

“What do you want?”

“I will be yours one more time and you can do all you want to me.”

Ramsay's lips widened in a razorblade grin, “...aren't you giving me too much, now? You are a terrible business man.”

Theon shook his head then put his finger on Ramsay's lips.

Ramsays stiffened: Theon didn't fear him anymore? More than once he almost bit off his fingers and now he'd put it on his lips with such ease?

“But after, you'll kill me.”

Ramsay blinked and backed slightly, “What?”

Theon glanced, firmly, “After you fuck me, cut me, draw my blood, whatever the fucking stuff you want, after that, I want you to kill me.”

“...just once then?”

“Just once. – Theon whispered, as to sign their contract – I offer you it all... and you do what I don't have the courage to do.”

Ramsay snickered, “You are afraid to die and you put yourself through a terrible death? That's stupid.”

Ramsay's laugh echoed dull, as he looked again, knowing perfectly Theon had no fear of dying.

_The courage to die, that's easy to find._

_The courage to live without him again. That I can't have._

_I'd run away again and rush to him and hope again._

_And lie and hope and destroy._

_Let him be without you, Theon – everyone would be much happier that way …_

Ramsay mumbled, “Can I play with you a bit before the wedding night, then?”

Theon's look didn't focus on him. All he could think about were eyes of a much warmer blue.

“...what do you have in mind?”

Ramsay grinned, pushed his hand under Theon's clothes and pulled his skin.

“You got fat.”

Theon smiled.

It hurt just a bit.

The way that comment echoed and run through his ribs and sat in his muscles and melted into him.

It hurt just a tiny tiny bit.

Leaving Robb hurt way more.

 

*

 

Asha opened the door with a confused look, “...is it visit day?”

Robb panted, almost falling on her porch right in front of her door. His breath scraped off, his heartbeat skipped through.

“Is Theon here?”

Asha blinked, worried, “No, he.. I thought he was with you.”

“What?”

“He said he was going back to the city and... I just assumed, since he... - she glanced away as something seemed to hit inside her, she looked back at Robb in embarrassment and fear, but didn't dare asking him to confirms her doubts – Wait, he gave me a number.”

“A number?”, Robb panicked, moving closer.

She could see his breath solidifying in the air.

Scared and angry, he looked like a bull in the dead of winter solitude.

Asha entered in the house and signed for him to enter too.

The house looked haunted: filled with beer bottles and trash. And photographs, photographs of a whole family that disappeared, piece by piece.

Asha handled him a little piece of paper, all crumpled up, as if he wrote it over a moving car or something. The ink of the pen was almost missing and he almost carved the numbers.

As if it was the most important thing in the world.

Asha glanced up to him and sat, then staring down at her beer cemetery, suddenly ashamed of the landfill of regrets she had become. Her old self would have maybe kept Theon close.

She sighed and looked up at Robb, who was still looking at the paper, confused.

“He said to call this number and bring her here.”

Robb turned to her, confused.

“Bring _her, who_?”

Why did Theon not even say goodbye to him?

Why did he go back? And yet he took the care to secure this... someone. Was she one of his lovers? And why giving this to Asha?

“He said her name is Jeyne. – She commented, then moved and took from the table another piece of paper, a white business card – He also said to call here, if we thought she needed more help.”

Robb took the card.

_Davos Seaworth_? He heard that name somewhere, he was sure.

And that was not an easy name to forget, but why would Theon have the business card of a therapist for any reason in the world?

He let out a laugh.

“I don't get it.”

Asha turned, “Me neither but...”

“Why did he even come back? – he murmured, anger boiling, he kicked a glass bottle and smashed it on the wall – Why did he even come back?”

Asha's eyes widened in tenderness and she stood up next to Robb.

“Let's not give up on him yet, shall we?”

“I'm tired! - Robb shouted, this time his eyes showing all the wounds open, exposed to the bone – I missed him and missed him and then, when I hoped, he just...”

“He loves you though...”

“Maybe love is not enough!”, he roared, putting in her hands the piece of paper and business card before moving to the door.

Asha looked at them.

Of course, of course, it made sense for him to think that. Who wouldn't feel betrayed?

Who wouldn't feel left alone?

But, as her eyes looked at the numbers carved in the paper, almost breaking it, and the blue ink turning dry, she sniffled and let out a voice, a prayer, a beg, she didn't remember ever using after she was four.

“But then what is enough?”

Robb's hand left the door handle.

 

*

 

This Jeyne was different than his own.

She also had the colours of the tender welcoming earth, but her skin was pale and her smile thin, almost as a faded painting which only had some strokes still vivid on the canvas. The hospital nurse asked them to identify themselves, and when Asha said “Greyjoy”, she seemed to lit up, “But then you are her sister.”

Robb turned, confused.

Asha hid her puzzlement as the nurse gave her the folder for Jeyne Greyjoy, whose only known family members resulted in her brother, Theon, and her sister, Asha. She smiled, confirming, and saying they would have liked to take her home with them, if the doctors deemed it time; the nurse quickly promised to find a doctor so they could talk about it and Asha glanced at Robb, finding him confused as a lost puppy.

“...so, I just discovered I have a sister in a mental health facility and that she has... - she glanced at the folder - … Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, with associated depression and... atypical eating disorder?”

Robb looked at her again, as she was sitting in that chair, looking out of the window.

She had a little golden bracelet, which looked almost weird next to the anonymous cotton white hospital vest. She had a big notebook in her hands and she kept drawing.

He couldn't stop thinking she had something familiar.

He came close to her and squatted, “Hey.”

She turned and gave him one of her weakly pulled smiles, “Hey.”

“Ahm.. - he hesitated, he was not sure how to speak to someone who has been so hurt – Are you drawing?”

She turned her notebook and showed a beautiful sketch of daffodils, the proud, wild yellow and cream kind one can find near rivers. He remembered them from his summer vacations in Ireland as a child.

“It's very beautiful.”

“I'm making them for a friend. - she admitted, with her voice low as the squeak of a mouse – I miss him a lot.”

“Your friend?”

She looked at him, trying to wonder if she could trust him.

“He said, he'll find a job and bring me to live with him. Safe. When I heal. - she moved her pencil nervously – He said I have to do my best and he would have done the same and...”

Robb licked his lips, timorous, unsure.

“...you mean Theon?”

Jeyne seemed to panic, she moved the notebook next to her chest as to protect it.

Only then, Robb noticed the scars all over her arm. And her fingers.

He could have mistaken those for self-inflicted, hadn't he seen identical scars on someone else.

The look in his eyes made her distance more, she gulped down, “Who are you?”

Robb tried to calm down. He didn't mean to scare her.

God, she was small and tiny and delicate as a rabbit.

And... and he felt so dirty for the broken mobile and the glass and the screams. He wondered if he looked like a monster to someone like her.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on Theon. On how hard it felt missing him.

Not on the anger, not on the hardness, not on the secrets.

“...I am Robb, Theon and me we-”

She lit up, “Robb! - She smiled, now genuinely – Robb! He told me of you!”

“...did he?”

She nodded quickly, “Did you two find each other? Is Theon close?”

His jaw dropped and he let out a small gulp. He glanced down and she got pale as the snow.

“Actually, we don't know where Theon is, we hoped for you to tell us.”

Asha reached both of them, and mumbled, “The doctor said she needs still som... - then she interrupted herself – What's going on?”

Jeyne looked at both of them in worry and held herself tight, keeping her shoulders from trembling, closing up.

Robb took her hand delicately, “...Jeyne, I, I am not sure how to ask, but do you have any idea where Theon could be?”

“Maybe. - Her eyes got big, then her throat seemed to jump, stretched and tensed as if she had to puke – Maybe he found him, us.”

Asha was about to move forward, but Robb stopped her with a hand and looked at Jeyne with kindness.

“You know, when my sister was little, she had a boyfriend who would... do to her terrible things. He'd slap her and punch her and call her names... - he made an effort not to look at her hands – Did someone do this to you and Theon?”

She looked at him, terrified at the idea of speaking, horrified at the idea of silence.

“Will you go find him if I tell you the truth?”

Robb nodded. Then he raised his wrist with the leather armband.

Jeyne tilted her head, curious, then looked at it closely.

_R.S. - T.G._

“It's... our Manderley.”, Robb explained, seeing her confused

Jeyen bent her head a little on the side, still looking at it, “What's Manderley?”

Robb bit his lips where it hurt still, “It's a dream you can't return to anymore, and we... we thought it was like that, but, I never left it and I don't want to.”

She smiled and swallowed up, “Will you believe me?”

“I will believe anything, I promise.”

Asha was unsure how this was going to lead them anywhere, but that kid looked so wounded and delicate she could barely admitting doubting her without feeling guilty.

Jeyne took a big breathe, looked around to ensure privacy and spoke, “Theon saved me. He saved my life. - She showed her right arm, they looked like cuts and, upper, also bites, not humanly made – A man, he took me. I was... I was not in a good place, nobody could miss me so... I guess I was a good prey.”

Robb swallowed down, Asha sat next to her and, waiting for a look from her to allow it, she caressed her back softly.

“Theon was there since before, I don't know for how long. He, he was like... his favorite.”

“His favorite?”

“There were many like me. Five, six, but nobody like Theon. - she looked down – He picks a girl at the time and when he is finished with them, he kills her.”

Asha was aghast, her hand shivered, she twitched.

“But-”

Jeyne turned, “He never killed Theon, he... I think he liked him the most. He would allow him to bath at times and he always disinfected his wounds.”

Robb put a hand over his mouth. He felt close to vomit.

His Theon.

The scar on the hips, on the back, the ones on the fingers.

He never dared to ask, he never wanted to force him and by that... did he let Theon bring all of that in his life, all of that time? Did he allow stuff to keep hurting him?

...he had been the worst.

His Theon, no, he didn't deserved Theon, not an inch of him.

His voice came out as a flame about to die, “Did he... force himself on you?”

Jeyne stiffened, “That was... - she glanced down, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes – You'll think I'm awful.”

Robb held her hands in a second, strong and protective.

She had Jeyne's name.

She was Sansa's age.

She had Theon's fragility.

In a moment he wished he could protect her, because he failed to protect them.

“I will never, never, think you are awful.”

Jeyne nodded, trembled, “That... was the best part. I... I could close my eyes and imagine... someone else was... - Her throat twitched again and she gulped – But when he cut, you never knew if it would end and it hurt and... - tears rolled out, salted and heavy – He used the dogs sometimes on us.”

Robb blinked, then closed his eyes, trying not to even imagine it.

“Theon was nice to me. - She smiled tentatively, - One time he forced him to... to make me come or he said he would have cut his... his tongue and my... - instinctively, she grabbed Asha's hand held it, then forced herself to talk, as if it came out of her all at once – One day, he helped me. We ran away, together, but... I needed help, he- he said he would returned to me...”

Robb cupped her face in his hands and looked right in her face.

“Theon Greyjoy is terrible at keeping promises. And he is unable to stick around for long.”

Asha was about to stop him, seeing Jeyne tremble and feeling her hand shivering on her own.

Robb continued, “And this is why Asha and I are going to take him back here, instead of waiting for him.”

Jeyne's smile was light as snow falling down.

She missed a couple teeth.

But she looked splendid all the same.

“Can you remember the address of that person?”

Jeyne nodded and took her notebook back in her hands.

 

*

 

“Theon!”, he shouted, throwing another small rock at the window.

Theon would not come out.

Robb pouted, furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms: he had no intention to go away. Not without Theon.

His father couldn't keep him prisoner.

For a moment, Robb felt almost awkward, imagining Theon as a prince he could save from a dragon. It felt weird... not only he was too big for those stories but, shouldn't he have thought that about some girls, no?

But there was nobody else he wanted to save more than Theon.

And his father was really as ugly as a dragon.

“Theon...”

Robb took another stone, this time with a little tip and threw it stronger, as strong as he could. He almost felt like his arm pulled and he fell on the ground, but as he heard it clicking against the window, he was up again, his face covered in mud.

He yelled again, “Theon!”

This time, the little window opened and Theon peeked through.

He looked down on him, then snorted, “Did you make one of your mom's face masks?”

“Don't make fun of me! - Robb laughed – Come to play!”

Theon looked back , and he seemed terrified.

“I don't know when he will wake up... I have to be here or...”

Robb looked at him, then sucked his lips, “Your dad shouldn't hurt you!”

“Not all dads are like yours...”, he mumbled, hiding the fact he was also a bit afraid of Eddard Stark and that look like he knew every secret he had.

But... Robb was looking at him, almost crying.

He was sad.

He wanted to play with him.

...someone, out there, in the world, thought he was fun to be around, someone out there wanted him.

He glanced again and then run through the door, and reached Robb.

Robb hugged him tight and kissed his cheek.

“If he hurts you again, I'll punch him!”

Theon shook his head, amused, “You are too tiny. Even my brothers can't slap him back.”

“Yes, but they slap you. That sucks. - He looked angry – You are the best one, the funniest one, the sweetest, they don't deserve you.”

Theon almost laughed, as if he heard the biggest joke, “Robb, who are you talking about?”

He got all red, before replying, staring deeply into Theon's eyes.

“About you.”

As Theon was still dumbfounded, Robb took his hand, “Come, I found a house deep in the wood in the back. It's like an old villa, it's so cool.”

Theon followed, but he was a bit taller than Robb and his clothes kept getting into the thorns of the blackberry bushes all around. The villa was beyond those and a thick layer of trees with very darkk leaves. It all smelled like grown ups deodorant and those perfumes for the car Robb's parents had.

A thorn plucked into his jacked and pulled.

Robb turned, scared, as he heard Theon screamed and cursed, more for the sudden surprise than for the actual pain. He also lowered his eyes in embarrassment, because Theon did curse and one of those curses you do not even hear from the adults, but just from the movies.

Theon was bleeding just for a scratch but the sleeve of his jacket was torn at the end.

“How did that happen?”

Theon sighed, “It's old...”, he mumbled, it was a little leather jacket his mom had pulled together from his father's when it broke and that all his brothers had used before him, but that was the story of all his clothes, and that ruined leather jacket still seemed like the coolest thing ever, even if it had more stitches than Frankenstein's creature.

Robb glanced at it.

“I'm sorry, it's my fault.”

Theon shook his head and took something from his pockets. A little swiss knife.

Robb's eyes went wide : he was allowed to have something like that? Didn't his dad worry abou... yeah, nevermind.

“Cool!”

Theon smirked, smiling all smug and cut away a thin stripe from the damaged sleeve's hand... then he cut a bigger one, which took a lot away, but he didn't mind. He often had trousers with one leg longer than the other due to cuts and old hems.

He took it and carved something into it.

He almost cut himself, because the knife was big and his fingers unsure.

But he carved those words like...

 

*

 

“...like they were... the most important thing in the world” .

Asha turned towards Robb, while still keeping one eye on the road, “What?”

Robb looked at his leather band and then out of the window.

“Nothing big... I was just realizing I'm an idiot.”

She chuckled, “You both are, if it helps.”

Robb's look went out of the glass window and on to the road and to the sun, shining bright, like that day, as he jumped to hug Theon, hurting himself on the blackberry thorns, without minding, laughing in joy.

He felt so silly to think that his prince did give him a piece of his dress to remember him by.

He felt like a true knight.

And he wished to kiss him.

 


	9. 9. Solvent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does contain some scenes that may be deemed strong (eg Ramsay is himself). HOPEFULLY, it's not too triggering or anxiety-driving. Also hopefully it is all clear, I wanted to keep some actions not totally explicit but left unsaid, although still clear.  
> Aaaand... just the epilogue to go.  
> Thank you again to everyone for sticking around aaand... chapter 9 on 10 is here.

_9\. Solvent_

 

* * *

 

 

It was almost easy not to eat. Comforting, in a way.

He had nobody to disappoint, nobody to let down.

Ramsay was not sad if he didn't eat, Ramsay didn't glance at his scars in contempt, Ramsay didn't tell him he loved him when they knew he was rotten to the core.

Ramsay was a comfort.

Ramsay was the curse he chose, the familiar poison, the self-fulfilled prophecy.

He took him two teeth and threw him in the cage to “starve the energies away” and to become lean again as he liked.

_At least_ , he thought, _Ramsay likes me in a way... not an idea of me, but me, me for real. And there is no other way for me to be loved._

No other possibilities.

It was impossible.

_Robb could never love me, if he saw me._

_Who could? Only Ramsay._

_He is as rotten as I am._

He laughed to himself, chuckling. This time, though, he was going to make sure their rotten flesh wouldn't leave that house.

Both of them were going to die there this time.

His life had no value, but Ramsay's... that was a danger. He couldn't risk him to find someone else.

… _He didnt' substitute me, though._

_Robb did._

_You left him no choice._

_Robb was happier with her, wasn't he?_

_He was not._

_You saw how he looked at her._

He looked at the clock, tensing up, waiting for the moment Ramsay would ask him to prepare dinner – he always did, as slap in the face as he forced him not to eat. At that point, he would have done it. And, if he was lucky enough, he wouldn't have had to put up with having Ramsay touching him.

Hopefully, he was going to bring them both dead before.

But if not, he knew he didn't deserve anything else, after all.

He glanced at the dogs, licking themselves, companions to each other, silent and sleepy. They had no faults, they were just trained.

But he had no choice... he wouldn't be able to let them free.

“ _You saved me...?”_

“ _Everyone would have.”_

“ _You are the one who did.”_

He wondered if Jeyne would forgive him for never meeting again. She was still smelling like dog and blood, when he had left her there.

He had cleaned her.

He remembered, putting her into a bathtub in that small motel, and scrubbing her skin gently, letting all her sobs out, kissing her forehead – as his mother did with him when he was hurt – and disinfecting every cut.

He remembered her trying to take off his clothes, because she couldn't conceive any other reason for someone to save her.

Because she didn't know how to say _thank you_ anymore.

He remembered the nurse asking their documents and he remembered trying to find a lie, while Jeyne had started crying.

He remembered using the little money he still had to buy her a notebook and the colors.

“ _Please, draw a lot... you said you loved to.”_

“ _...what are your favorite flowers?”_

He remembered how she had trembled like a leaf in the cold autumn wind.

“ _Daffodills.”_

Like the ones Robb would bring him from Ireland. He would put them into books, to hide them from his dad, to make them immortals.

She had looked like starlight still. Despite everything that had happened.

He, he was like a squished can broken apart: cuts whoever touches it.

“ _If I... told you, would you laugh?”_

“ _I wouldn't laugh.”_

“ _I love you.”_

How idiotic.

How could he think that...

“ _I love you.”_

How could he let himself hope he could let it be? How could he not see he was damaging a family? Robb and Bran... they needed normality.

Jeyne had come back. Right before he was about to speak.

It was a sign. It was clearly a sign.

“ _I love you.”“I love you.”“I love you.”“I love you.”“I love you.”“I love you.”“I love you.”“I love you.”“I love you.”_

A sob squished out of him, chocked and weak.

“...I love you too.”

  
  


*

  
  


“ _I love you.”_

“I was a real jerk...”

Asha raised her eyes from the stirring wheel and glanced at Robb, “You know, I thought Theon was the self-deprecating one, but I'm starting to reconsider my blinded views...”

“I saw them! - he shouted, looking at her, eyes red – I saw his scars and I didn't ask. I. Didn't. Ask. Who does that?”

Asha blinked, unimpressed.

“Someone who knows Theon?”

Robb seemed gobsmacked and Asha moved, driving the car on the side of the highway to stop. She took out the keys, lit a cigarette and breathed out, deeply.

“If you had asked, he would have just went before.”

“...maybe he would have thought I cared.”

“Maybe. - Asha sighed – For how I see it, the truth is... when we love someone there are still parts of them we can't reach. We love and we love and we love and pour it all out... - she swallowed up – But if that person is wounded, sometimes all we can do is sit next to them and tell them we won't leave.”

“...you mean it?”

“We are obsessed with healing each other, to fell special, perhaps. But... - her eyes wandered on the orange lights melting and rushing away in the dark – Sometimes we just have to accept that people are not going to be whole anymore, whatever we do.”

“... then should I just what? Give up his happiness?”

Asha glared and slapped him on the head, “His happiness was you, idiot. - She threw the cigarette out of the window – It was you when he was eight, it will be you until he is eighty. That kid loves you a fuckton.”

Robb lowered his look, “I love him too but... I ruined it. I should have done more.”

“You know, probably you did ruin it.”

Robb flinched.

Asha glanced at him, “But this doesn't mean you can't try again and that you won't be happier. He just has to give you a chance, isn't it?”

“...I feel so stupid for thinking about my feelings, when I should be worried about his safety.”

Asha turned the light on and returned to drive, with a dry sigh.

“That's what you never got, Robb, he is no princess to be saved.”

“Uh?”  
“You two, you save each other, don't you?”

“ _I love you.”_

“ _Family was always the most important thing to you.” “We can never go back to Manderley again...” “So I kept Manderley with me.” “I won't bring dates.” “I was an asshole too. I was scared.” “I don't get how you didn't hate me.” “Take them off.” “Still? How stubborn are you?” “I wouldn't... I wouldn't laugh.”_

“ _I love you too...”_

Robb clenched his fist so tight he could feel the nails sink into the flesh.

And he knew it dind't hurt half as what Theon was probably going through right in those moments.

“Asha, I have to ask you something.”

“Sure.”

“Do you still have that Winchester-level arsenal in the back of your truck for when you go hunting boars?”

She grinned wide.

“You think I would have started driving a rescue mission without a couple of nice guns? - she pressed to speed up – You hurt my feelings, this way.”

Robb sighed, staring in front of him.

“...you know I never shot anything, right?”

“I'll explain the basis.”

  
  


*

  
  


Ramsay sat at table with a big curled up smile, like a cat in front of a cup of pure cream. Theon did prepare him dinner, as requested,w ithout eating anything and was cleaning some of the dishes behind him.

He put a spoon in the soup, before squinting his eyes.

“Theon?”

Theon stiffed, terrified. Had he found him out?

He moved his hand slightly away from the burner and turned towards Ramsay, “Yes?”

A look like ice.

“Sit with me, let's eat together.”

Of course. Theon felt idiotic, swallowing up, of course he would have thought that the food was poisoned. It made sense.

Theon's bottom lip quivered as he sat in front of him.

“Are you sure I may eat with you?”

“Sure. - Ramsay smiled, maybe to hide his nervous suspicious under a mask of confidence - It's your last supper, after all.”

Theon glanced at the food, took a spoon and started to eat.

For real, it was going to be his last meal.

His hand trembled, at remembering Bran. How he had promised to cook and bake for him, how they had prepared the cake together, how he lhad aughed.

That kid.

That small, little, innocent thing liked him. He was fond of him.

_At least, now, he has his mom. There is nothing more important._

He brought the food to his mouth and started munching. He found disguting how raw Ramsay liked his meat, but he was not going to complain.

“Do you like it, Theon?”

“...it's a weird cut.”

Ramsay's grin got wide, “You're going to taste the same, when I'm finished with you.”

He glanced at the dish, feeling suddenly the urge to puke and run away. His tongue burnt, his throat jolted.

All he could hear was the dropping of the fork on the dish and Ramsay chuckling amused.

He held back his nausea.

He was not going to be eaten by that disgusting being.

It didn't matter if he didn't deserve better or if he deserved exactly that... that, that he wouldn't have had. He was going to die doing some good into that world.

“ _Tell the truth, Al...”_

“ _I love you.”_

Maybe, if he could change one thing, that, that would have been it: saying Robb and Bran the truth before disappearing. Even if he didn't belong with them, he did love them.

  
  


*

  
  


“Robb, are you sure?”, she asked, frantically.

“I'm afraid so. - Robb mumbled, Asha glanced at him annoyed at him still being on the phone during such a tense time – I'm sorry to ask you to take care of Bran until we come back.”

“Robb, this is not like you... – Jeyne whispered, scared – It's a police thing, you should call the cops.”

“I can't risk, Jey.”

A sigh and then a pause, “...give me the address, at least, I will call them while you go.”

“What if he hears the sirens and gets scared?”

“What if you two need help? – Jeyne scolded him – You may not be able to risk Theon, but we can't risk you.”

Robb sighed, then looked again at Asha.

“...can you put... Bran a bit on the phone?”

Jeyne nodded and went towards the television, where Bran was eating, with a bit of tantrums, a food he didn't seem to enjoy at all. She smiled and pointed at the phone and Brandon took it in his hands, proud.

“Daddy! When do you come home?”

“Soon, champ... - a weird smile rose on his mouth, sad – I'm trying to get Theon too.”

Bran lit up in joy, “So we can have both mommy and Theon?”

“...I hope so, beanie.”

Bran smiled enthusiastically and laughed, “That would be so cool! Before we didn't have any and now we have two, it's the best day ever!”

“Yes, if dad manages...”

“Dad can do everything!”, he said, firmly convinced.

Robb sighed, “...thank you, champ.”

“Please, when you come home, bring ice cream!”

Robb laughed, lolling his head back and slapping his face, “Sure, sure, we will.”

“Thank you! - Bran jumped on the spot – And get chocolate too, Theon likes it.”

“...yes, he does.”

He leant back on the seat, sighing as he saw that Asha was exiting the highway and preparing to enter into the city.

He cleared his voice, “I love you, Bran.”

Bran frowned, “Me too, dad... – then his voice seemed to turn suspicious – You still have to get me the ice cream.”

“I promise.”

He hang up and Asha glared at him, while slowing down.

“Sorry to interrupt the happy family show, but... we are almost there.”

Robb breathed in and looked outside the window.

“I know...”

  
  


*

  
  


“Theon... Theon...”

He opened his eyes slowly. He could hear birds singing, tweeting, twirling their voice in acute little dancing notes. The light of the sun shone sweet and far away.

She smiled at him and kissed his forehead.

“How do you feel now?”

“I'm okay...”, he mumbled up hiding his face behind the pillow.

His mother run her finger through his hair, softly, gently, and he felt soother – he could close his eyes and imagine winter landscapes and quiet lakes, and Robb smiling at him. No father, no uncle, no Rodrik, no Maron, no Asha.

Just his mom and Robb and him. That was enough.

“Does your cheek still hurt?”

Theon shook his head. It didn't. Probably the bruise was going to be really small this time.

“And where dad spanked?”

He could glance at his fingers and find them still all redden up, as for his butt, he felt it stinging still, but didn't want to admit it.

“A bit.”

“Just a bit?”, she asked, kissing his forehead.

He nodded.

She looked at him with a tenderness and an affection nobody else ever had for him – she laid on the bed next to him, opened his arms and invited him to jump into the hug, like the small cub he was.

She passed her fingers through his hair, kissing them.

His father just pulled them.

Somehow, he still liked when people pulled them more than caressing them.

He was really fucked up and made all wrong, wasn't he?

He cried against her bosom, while she hummed a lullaby he was a tiny bit too old for.

“I told him to stop. - she promised, as if it mattered – I told him to not touch you anymore.”

“They all hurt...”

“My sweet babyboy. - she held him tight – Meek as a lamb... - she kissed his forehead – But I know you are braver than all of them.”

Theon raised his eyes full of tears.

“Am I?”

His mother nodded, “You have a courage they can't even dream of.”, then she rubbed their noes together and held him tighter.

And he could still remember her scent.

The scent of water and oats, the scent of clean and cranberries, the scent of the way she'd hold him close and her shampoo in his nostrils echoed and calmed him.

His mom... the only one...

“...mom.”

“Yes, honey?”

His voice raised out magenta and hopeful and soft.

He hid his smile against her breast, “...Robb, I like Robb a lot.”

She laughed and ruffled his hair, “Oh, baby, you already have a bestfriend. - she sighed – I'm glad we moved here, then... even just for this.”

Theon wanted to agree but it pulsed in him, vermillion and strong, delicate and impetuous that gushing feeling clenching his chest.

He knew it, he knew it from movies.

He hid a bit more against his mom, “I... I like him the bigger way.”

A genuine laugh. A ruffle in his hair.

Somehow, that stung more than the slaps.

Somehow, it bruised him deeper than the belt.

“Oh, honey, no! That's a phase! It's because you are delicate.”, she smiled, kissed his hair and kept him closer.

And Theon nodded.

What was he supposed to say? There was no choice for him to make.

He thought about Robb's cerulean eyes, then glanced by the side, trying to avoid being discovered.

He was pretty sure it was not a phase.

Because when Robb and he exchanged a little piece of leather, for a foolish moment he – he wanted to kiss him.

  
  


*

  
  


He shouted, but he couldn't let his voice out.

The duct tape was tight on his mouth, and Ramsays made sure to gag him under it too, just to make it extra sure.

Tears pooled in his eyes while a stretched strangled whine was the only thing to slither out of his full-blown lung scream.

Ramsay raised the knife from Theon's back.

“You got spoiled. - a laugh – You didn't complain like this before.”

Theon held the sheets tight, until his knukles got white, while Ramsay kept engraving into his flesh. Pain pierced his vertebras.

“ _I love you.”_

His eyes were so full of tears he couldn't see anything.

Ramsay moved slightly, as to grab something else. Theon stiffened, held the blanket tighter.

The hammer crashed on his left hand and it pulverized his scream.

He fainted, puke pooling in his mouth and his hand pulsing as if a thunder crashed through it.

“ _I love you.”_

Ramsay woke him up as kindly as he could: slamming the hammer also on his hip, this time tears came out loud and sobs couldn't even be muffled.

“You were so cocky, Theon... – he grinned – Or should I say my reeking whore? – a chuckle – Remember when I called you that?”

Theon's blurred vision could still focus on the clock.

Just a bit more and everything would be over. He just needed to wait for it to be everywhere.

Maybe, maybe he would even lose consciousness soon.

Ramsay unzipped his pants, slapped his ass and entered it with a swine grunt, sinking up to the end. It burnt, but it was not the pain that hurt.

It was feeling him, feeling his presence.

_Dirty again._

_Dirty again._

_I felt clean. I felt loved. I had him... don't rub him away from me, please..._

For a moment, all he wished was to die without feeling dirtied again, but Ramsay started moving already, clumsily and hurtful as usual, his voice, with his droll, near Theon's ear, whispering what he would have done with him next.

The wound on his back burnt like scorching coals as he could feel Ramsay's chest rubbing on it, his hair and swear tickling the rims and edges of the cuts.

His hand couldn't move. He felt like his bones were crumbled.

As Ramsay pushed in and out, Theon closed his eyes and tried to pretend, he tried to imagine, that night in the car, Robb's hands on his hips, the gentle warmth of his touch, the adoring and voracious kisses like a storm on his neck.

...his neck.

He froze.

There was no way Ramsay didn't notice them – he was too possessive, too wicked. What did he have in mind to make him pay?

“You know... - he whispered in his ear, licking the shell slowly – There is a thing I tried with Jeyne, but it was not very fun, she was such a bore... - he clenched Theon's hips and pushed harder, coming into him – But a slut like you, I bet you'll like it a lot.”

The dogs no, the dogs no.

Ramsay's hand clenched his neck, bending it, moving it behind.

His teeth looked like a giant white about to swallow him up.

“You are a bitch, after all, aren't you?”

Theon could feel something pointy stuck into his waist. It burnt and he tried to yell, but nothing came out, all muffled by the gag and the duct tape. Tears streamed in a flood of salt.

He couldn't do it, he couldn't.

Ramsay's clench got tighter, “Which fucking dog did you let fuck your bitch ass, hm? Tell me.”

Theon's voice squirmed, a highpitched scream, a pulsed, seizured shout got muffled again.

Ramsay took away the duct tape in a moment,then lowered the gag and twisted the knife inside Theon's waist – he could feel something get pierced. He felt the taste of blood in his mouth.

“Tell me. Now.”, he roared.

Theon could feel Ramsay's cock hardening again from the pain he was provoking him, sickening as it could be. He wished he could just black out and...

“ _I love you.”_

He knew how to hurt him too.

“Robb. - he panted out, clenching his teeth, feeling blood and puke walking back in his throat – I fucked my Robb.”

He just saw Ramsay's grin turn into growling fangs.

And then a jerk of red, splattered onto the sheets.

He shout at the top of his lungs, staring at one of his fingers, there, laying on the bed, next to him, like a lover in the afterglow, dripping blood.

He puckered and gasped like a fish, staring at it, without any chance to realize.

And then the hammer hit his legs.

“ _Dad is happy now. I am happy too... Now that Theon is with us, it's always fun.”_

Ramsay moved from him, slowed by anger and frustration, and he abandoned the bed; Theon glanced at the clock. It could work.

He didn't have much before Ramsay would open the dogs' cage and let them free. His dead finger disgusted him. His bleeding hand and his broken legs had to make a last effort.

He... he just needed a lighter or a switch.

Theon managed to force his legs to bear the pain enough for him to move slightly towards the dresser, he raised his good hand but then, searching, he put also the broken one on the dresser, wincing in silence. He was almost done.

But on Ramsay's night dresser, there was no lighter.

  
  


*

  
  


Ramsay moved through the dark room, looking around, lost.

He had to requilibrate his breath, unable to understand what had changed – sure, Jeyne convinced him to escape with her, it wasn't like that spineless slut would have done it on its own, but now he had become... resistant, fierce. He would bite back.

Ramsay's head felt dizzy: what was happening to his creature?

There was a weird, heavy smell, he couldn't identify. Maybe the dogs.

He was about to switch the light on to check on them and open their cages, when an insistent knock demanded his attention. He could feel something hitting him and squishing him on the ground.

Like a rug.

Chaos, door slamming, shouting.

A moment after, one of those who entered in the door, was up, screaming that name: Theon. That son of a bitch.

He wheezed under the pressure he felt on him, like a foot. He could feel his pride and stomach burning.

“This place smells like gas, Robb!” - she shouted – Let's go!”

Robb? Did he come until there to get that back?

How? Why?

Why would anyone risk their lives for him?

Ramsay trembled, as solitude sunk in his chest with a numb sound.

He could see, Theon's broken legs, as that man held him in his arms – how much blood he was dripping, almost fainted, still together. Still alive. Held by someone. Loved.

He screamed, trying to stand up. The last thing he felt was the stock of the rifle, hitting his skull.

It all went to blur and he was alone, in the dark, once again.

  
  


*

  
  


Theon's own mind was barely working, he could barely feel his limbs, and it all was flowing and moving quick, hysterical, feverish.

He could see Robb crying over him, cupping his face.

Even when the house flared up, Theon could barely hear anything. He wondered if Ramsay screamed, resisted, fought.

He closed his eyes and let the thought pass through him, like the waves of the sea.

“I love you...”, Robb whispered, caressing his hair, kissing them.

Theon smiled, or tried to, but Robb just cried louder, kissed him, as he tightened his grip.

Maybe he saw the teeth missing.

“I love you...- he promised, holding him in his arms - ...I came to take you home, home, with me and Bran.”

And if it was a dream, it felt enough real for him to smile. He wished he had the strength to pass his fingertips on that Robb, to check if he was real.

His lungs let out just a wheezed whine.

“...me too.”

His eyelashes twitched a bit and he nodded, falling asleep, with a smile on his lips.

  
  


*

  
  


_When I woke up, you were not there._

_So, I figured, I dreamt you._

_It made sense to me, because I wished for you all my life until you came – and since when I lost you, you were both my nightmares and my sweet dreams._

_As time took us by just to make us part, I lost a part of me I'm not sure I can have back._

_It was obvious to me, in that house, clogged with gas, as I hoped for it to explode and burn both him and me as quickly as possible, my mind had to have dreamt of you taking me away._

_A dream, a last vision before the end – your arms, your worried expression, the horror trembling in your voice, seeing the blood on the dirty sheets. You kissed me, in my dreams. You held me close._

_And that, that means now very little …_

_Because I woke up in an empty hospital room, beeping sounds of pristine machines and cold mint green walls. The curtains danced to your name, but you were not there._

_And that, somehow, made me wish I was not there either._

“Theon?”

He turned with a weak smile, “Asha.”

His sister looked unable to speak, her tongue dropped in her stomach and her eyes to the ground. She swallowed up some courage and came close, with a big bouquet of flowers.

“I bought some of these, they would give this room a bit of... well, less of a hospital look?”

Theon tried a chuckle, but it came out all sobbed and cracked. He had a tube in the nose but he noticed just then, and then it stung and annoyed him.

“So, did you get a part of my liver yet?”

“Nah. - she snorted – Just a kidney.”

“Sounds fair.”

She glanced back at him and sat on the chair, caressing his arm and the plastic tube from it.

“Jeyne said she hopes you to come to meet her soon. - she tried a smile – She is very worried about you.”

Theon chuckled, “I think she got a crush on me.”

“Well, you are pretty boy. - she caressed his eyebrow – And which girl doesn't have one formative crush on a gay man?”

“You still insist Di Caprio is gay, don't you?”

“He is. Did you ever see anyone looking more like a lesbian than him? - she snorted – Don't look at me like that, we're two faggots here.”

“It's queer the reclaimed one.”

“Queer is so mweh, I like faggots, it sounds like maggots. If I have to reclaim a slur, it will be one that seems to get stuck in my throat and when you say it's heavy in the mouth.”

Theon squinted his eyes and groaned.

“Am I hallucinating with morphine or are you that nervous you started to blabber?”

“Both, probably.”, she kissed his hand and laid her head next to his on the pillow.

She breathed in a bit.

She could still smell the dried blood, the urine, - the sperm, she was sure, it was all in her mind, but her nose decided it was there anyway – and the melted burnt flesh. She hoped the flowers and the smokes hid it all, but they didn't.

Theon glanced at his hand. A finger missing.

He wondered how Ramsay would have killed him, if he could have chosen.

Maybe he would have given him the William Wallace treatment, the real one, not the movie one, to honor his scottish origins.

That would have been like him.

He felt his stomach clenching at the idea of being exposed and rolled out on the floor.

He bit his lips.

He could taste blood and plastic and puke.

“Did he die?”

Asha looked away on the sheets, on the shadows dancing unmovingly on the walls, on the dirty scent of trees soaking the air.

“Yes.”

“Are you disappointed in me?”

She shook her head, “I'm angry at you. - she admitted, sucking her lips, refusing to look at him – You risked dying. I would have never known.”

“You deserve a better brother.”

“I'm scared.”, she let out.

And Theon frowned, confused.

Asha? Scared? Asha had never been scared one day in her life.

“You?”

She glanced at him, tears pooling up.

She clenched his hand so tight, Theon winced.

“I'm tired... of being left alone.”

Her soggy, low sob echoed louder than her strong laugh ever did.

  
  


*

  
  


_Every time I open my eyes and you are missing in the world, I feel as if there is no light._

_Colors left me in a strange grey world._

_And nothing moves and nothing lives for real._

“Can I?”

As Theon turned and saw her, his face lit up – she moved slowly, as fast as she could, anyway, an sat on the chair next to him with a sigh.

“Do they have an extra bed?”

“I'm afraid you'd be in another department.”

“The maternity one is so depressing. - she smiled – It's full of people thinking things will go bad.”

Theon snorted, “I'm not an optimist, though, Sansa.”

“But you're funny.”, she objected.

_Where is your brother?_

_Without him, your copper hair look grey and your ocean eyes look so dull._

She glanced as if she knew, then caressed his hand, “You were brave and stupid, mister Greyjoy, you scared us all a lot.”

“I didn't think I would...”

“This falls in the stupid part.”, she granted, her hand trembling as she moved the hair from his forehead.

“Should I stay here any longer?”

“They did the most while you were sleeping, but... your bones will need some extra time, some.. - she paused – They had to substitute.”

“Do I have a gadget dildo in one of the arms?”

Sansa kept for herself a chocked laugh and raised an eyebrow, “Really, now?”

“A man can dream.”

“Okay, Edward Scissorstrapon... - she glanced away – They said they had to fix your hips a bit for you to walk, and that the hand... well, no piano or violin career.”

“As long as I can jerk off with it, I'm fine. - he chuckled, glancing at it, remembering how Ramsay had slammed the hammer into pulp and he had almost collapsed at the pain of his bones crumbling and his finger cut off in a squirt of blood – I mean, it's still there.”

Theon swallowed, then glanced behind her and his eyes looked like a sharp wound opened in his heart and vibrated in the hurt light of tears.

“He is not coming, is he?”

Sansa glanced, “It's not... the space for a child, but he asked about you a lot, he wants to come, just...”

“I, I imagined for Bran, but... - a chuckle – I guess I hoped Robb...”

Sansa turned then, and took the mobile out of her bag and took a moment before, very calmly, scold up, “Robb, move your arse, your boyfriend is getting anxious over here!”

“...his?”, Theon blinked.

Sansa ended the phone call and smiled.

Robb never looked worse before.

His hair were dirty, his face covered in scratches and tears. His eyes were all red, like he cried for days, and he had purple dark circles under them. His nose was all a dried mess from how much he sniffed. His hands trembled nervously.

Theon would swear he could have seemed as malnourished and consumed as he was when he did special k.

And, gosh, he still looked beautiful.

“Hey.”

Robb raised his eyes, “Hey. - his voice all cracked, as if he didn't speak in years – You look awful.”

Theon snorted and Sansa stood up, moving away with a smile.

Robb came close slowly, looking as if scared, as if burnt to the core.

“...if you go away again, I might go insane.”, he just said, in a whisper.

Theon looked up to him.

“I just thought it was better this way. - he sighed – You and... Jeyne are a family and I, I don't know what I was doing there, disrupting you, taking a place that wasn't mine.”

Robb sat next to him, finding it hard to look anywhere, given the signs on Theon's body.

“We are Bran's family. And so are you.”

Theon looked away, in the mint green void.

“That's not normal...”

Robb's hand caressed his jaw and then passed on his lips, making him turn once more towards him.

“I don't give a fuck what's normal. - Robb almost roared in a whisper – There is nobody like you.”

“I'm all... a mess, I'm just sorrow and sex and a mess.”

“Sins, sorrows – you know, they taste the same with you. - he glanced at Theon's lips – They taste like sugar.”

Theon's eyes fell on Robb's lips too.

“I have a thing in my nose...”

Robb's lips twitched up slightly.

“Then warn me when you need to pause to breathe.”, he warned, eliminating the distance and grabbing Theon close, once again, once forever.

  
  


 


	10. EPILOGUE - 10. Sacrosanct

_10\. Sacrosanct_

 

* * *

 

 

“Guys! - he yelled, laughing – Stick closer! Goddammit!”

Sansa pouted, sitting on the hospital waiting room chair, with the most exhausted yet happy look, “Don't be bossy, Rick. We're too many for a single photo.”

Isolde looked up, “The air is stiff here.”

Tyrion smiled and took her on his shoulders, “Now you are higher so you get fresh air, honey.”

Isolde frowned up, a tiny bit disappointed, “Not that much...”

“...aren't you all your mom sometimes.”

“Excuse me?”, she mocked.

Theon lifted Isolde up and got her in his arms, “Better now?”

She glanced at him, a bit suspicious, “It is taller, but you smell like a car.”

Robb suffocated a laugh, “Told you, pine doesn't suit you much.”

Theon turned to protest properly but then Isolde pulled his hair forcing him not to, she looked straight in his eyes, as she never did, or maybe she stared at his eyebrows or something close enough for him to get confused, “Thank you for the lift.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes and groaned a bit, trying to pretend it didn't annoy him, but Sansa instead took the little Matilda placing her softly in her husband's arms. The newborn gave a big meowed yawn and returned to nap slowly.

He glanced at Sansa softly, “This one doesn't complain yet.”

Sansa chuckled, “You're still not used to female complaints?”

“I don't get that many usually.”, he chirped, moving closer to her so they could have the newborn between them.

She kissed his head, curls tickling her face, as her unrested redden eyes shone in happiness.

“She was a lot of work.”

Robb kissed Theon's ear softly, rubbing his nose against the ear shell and earned a weird, embarrassed look of “your younger brother is trying to take a decent photo of us with your new niece” and then a smile.

Bran looked around, mildly offended, noticing he was the only one with his feet on the ground; of course, he was not that small and young anymore, he didn't even like being held up that much, but why every other kid was? He groaned a bit, crossed his arms and then decided to jump on uncle Bran, ungracefully jolting over his legs, and smiling bright at him, as innocent as possible.

Bran ruffled his hair and the turned to his brother, behind the camera.

“Rickon, I beg of you, can you move?”

“If you all just tried to enter in the frame! - he protested – And maybe leave me some space.”

Theon twitched, “If you want I can be the one to...”

“No.”, Robb almost roared, clenching on his shoulders.

Sansa turned, “You skipped every Stark family photo, you are going to stay here, honey.”

Arya glanced at him, then half-whispered, secretively, “I also volunteered to take it: it was useless, they know we wouldn't jump into the frame as the countdown starts.”

Catelyn gave a deep groan and glanced in front of her, yet everyone somehow felt personally stared at and called down, “Do any of you think we could manage to take this photograph, so Sansa can return to rest?”

Bran moved to his uncle's ear, “Granma is scary sometimes.”

“Many times.”, he confirmed.

They all tried to squish in as close as possible without forcing nor Sansa nor big Bran to move. And as Rickon rejoiced, clicked and then jumped in the pciture too, they held tight for the five seconds that felt like five minutes.

The photograph most definitely came out of doubtful goodness, between Bran sticking his finger in his uncle's ear, Robb deciding to grope Theon's ass at the last second, Arya putting finger horns on Rickon's head, Catelyn giving her most done look, Isolde pulling the curtains behind them for science and thousand other small details; but as Sansa saw the awful preview, she smiled so wide, “Oh, finally, one where we are all together.”.

Tyrion kept rocking the little Matilda gently, making small chirping sounds at her, as she kept opening and closing her eyes, tired and yet curious of all what was going on around her.

Theon put Isolde down and went close to Sansa, a bit to control how bad he managed to keep a straight face when feeling Robb's hand – ...oh, really bad, yes – and kissed her temple, “Do I take the kids to get some food? Do you want something that is not white rice and chicken breast?”

Sansa smiled, “I'd kill for a Milky way.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

Bran scooted to Theon and poked Isolde to tell her to follow up. Robb glanced a bit and seemed to ask Theon with a look if he should come with them, gaining a smiled deny and a head sign to his sister. Stay with her a bit.

“You could have picked a cooler name this time, though. - Arya complained – Something a bit more badass.”

“It's a queen's name, it sounded so noble...”, Sansa sighed.

Tyrion mumbled, “I already saved her from Clorinde.”

“At least Clorinde was a badass warrior!”, Arya complained, Cat turned to her second daughter in surprise, gaining back a, “What? Epic stuff is not Sansa's prerogative. I just skipped the romantic bits.”

Rickon snorted, “Am I the only normal one in this family?”

Robb glanced at the small bundle of pink blankets and little breathes.

“She is so small...”

“She is a bit underweight. - Sansa admitted – Which, I'm not sure how it is possible, given how hungry I was all the time.”

“Maybe she'll do like Rickon and grow sprout like a skyscraper in middle school.”

Sansa smiled and caressed her little nose, “I just hope Izzie will like being an older sister.”

“I'm sure she will. - Robb gave a small laugh, raising up – Bran started asking when he will get a brother and I'm afraid I'll have to explain him anatomy a bit sooner than expected.”

Arya groaned, “If I ever get pregnant, I'll throw it to you.”

Catelyn gasped, “You don't throw children at other people.”

“I don't want one of those things. I'd rather have thirty dogs.”, she said, looking at the horizon, half daydreaming about that many dogs running around her, joyfully playing fetch or terrifying poor innocent squirrels. Yes, dogs. Dogs were amazing.

Robb laughed, “I could get a dog.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow, “... and you imagine Theon would... live... with a dog?”

“He liked Greywind.”

“He didn't have to clean Grey's poop. - she pointed out, drastically – He is a cat person, he likes clean little animals that provide for their own down under business.”

Rickon frowned, “...isn't that like the plot of something?”

Bran glanced at him, “If you mean Rescuers Down Under, I swear to God, I'm forcing you to read a book.”

Tyrion shrugged, “Well, I was not a children person until we wanted one, so... - he looked at Robb – Maybe even Theon can be converted to dogs. It seems easier than converting him to not dress like a fashion magazine to go to the supermarket.”

“That's true.”, Sansa observed.

Robb groaned, “Okay, okay, you can all stop being so sassy about my relationship.”

“About that... - Catelyn started, with her voice a bit itchy and dry , avoiding to look at Robb in the eyes – Since you... already live together and share the education of a child...”

“Mom is right. - Rickon nodded – You should totally propose to him.”

Robb let out a snort that almost broke his nose.

“Theon would kill me if I proposed.”

Catelyn looked away, a bit perplexed.

 

*

 

Isolde broke her cake in many small pieces before eating it very slowly, for which Theon was highly grateful. He had to buy Bran two snacks to keep him from wanting to go up, but it was worth it. He needed to breathe.

The whole Stark family in such a small room was way too much for him, and he didn't sleep the whole night due to Sansa's labor. And the night before he slept maximum three hours, because, well, let's say that since he got all well again after the hospital and he could move properly, Robb didn't let him sleep much in general.

Bran looked up to Theon, “What do we do after?”

Theon stared at the clock a bit.

“We go to Asha and Jeyne to say hello. - he played with his nose – Jeyne missed you a lot, she likes to draw with you.”

“I like it too, she lets me use all the stuff I want, not just crayons. - Bran groaned – I hate crayons, they feel weird on the hand.”

Isolde nodded profoundly.

Theon smirked, “They also said they would love to take us out to eat, but! - he put a finger up – Don't tell your father about the snacks.”

Bran giggled, “You are usually the one saying to eat veggies.”

“Yes, but... both Asha and Robb love burgers and pizza and unhealthy food. They deserve to celebrate a bit. - he smiled – For once, a bit of party won't hurt you.”

Bran seemed to reflect a long while, “...I can't have a little brother too, can I?”

Theon looked at him, a bit sad, but forcing himself to smile, so he wouldn't make Bran feel bad, “Maybe one day, but... you know me and you dad... we...”

“The stork was a lie, right?”

Theon shrugged his shoulders, “Yes, I'm sorry... I think adults say that because it's easier.”

Bran went silent a bit, looking at the paper trash of his Twix bar on the small table, at Isolde eating slowly, at the mint green and light blue of the walls – the room smelled all over like the fake lemon of detergents. It was not real lemon and so nothing there actually felt very real to him.

It felt a bit like crayons.

All sticky and weird.

Theon shut up, caressing his wrists, where the veins met, to calm himself down.

He knew what was happening: Bran was realizing that was not the norm.

He was realizing that his father and him may look like all the other families but some things didn't add up and – Theon felt dirty, dirty because he really was the son of Balon Greyjoy, still finding homosexuality weird and incomplete after all those years. He was not sure how to say sorry for that, for being unable to satisfy such a normal kid's wish.

Bran turned to him, with a severe look, then said, firmly, “You shouldn't lie, that's bad.”

Theon breathed out, “Are you angry?”

“A bit, parents shouldn't lie! - Bran crossed his arms – … but we can still get a cat right?”

Was it really that easy to him? _Parents_?

So warm and kind his heart that it didn't matter to him?

Theon felt an unknown warmth in himself and held the kid tight, keeping him close. For the first time, maybe thinking of him as his own.

“...I don't know if your dad will ever accept, honey, he likes dogs.”

“But I can make big, big eyes of please!”

Theon smirked, “I should probably tell you that is not a way to obtain things... so I'm going to tell you now, while we think about how to use that superpower of yours to get us a ragdoll.”

 

*

 

“And so this dude comes up to me like 'where is your boss' and I'm like 'I'm the boss, jackass, now shut the fuck up'...”

“...and that's the story of how Asha, once again, insulted a client.”, Theon sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Oh c'mon! He was a misogynistic prick.”

Theon rolled his eyes, “You can't act like that with a client.”

Robb and Jeyne glanced to each other and Robb breathed in, awkwardly, “So... how is living together working out?”

“Oh, I like it. - she smiled a little bright slice of sun – She... Asha is very caring. - she drank a bit of her coke, slowly – She makes sure I always have paint and she is even trying to convince me to put some stuff to sell.”

“Well, that sounds fun! - he glanced at Theon, still bickering with his sister – Actually, Theon was thinking about buying a place, he might need some help redecorating it.”

“Buying a place?”, she frowned, surprised.

Asha overheard and blinked, “Are you getting your own business now?”

“Well... - Theon cleared his voice – I, I just thought that since acting didn't really work out and then the owner of the diner sort of... you know, got too old and doesn't have children to take it... – he scratched his neck nervously – So, I figured, maybe to... try?”

Asha's eyes lit up.

“That's so cool! Free food!”

“...you won't get free food, I know the size of your stomach.”

Jeyne smiled, “Then I could really paint you something for the walls...”

Bran poked in, “I can paint too!”

“I was... sort of thinking about something more.. elegant than paintings on the walls?”

Asha glanced up, “Black walls? Silk curtains? Maybe onyx tables?”

Theon looked away, embarrassed, “Well, if you say it with that face it almost sounds like a bad idea...”

Jeyne laughed at seeing him so embarrassed, then her eyes fell on Robb and how he was looking at Theon. It felt almost ridiculously cheesy that someone could look at someone else like that, with so much love falling from their eyes.

She looked as Robb's arm moved to Theon's waist and his fingers caressed his hips, distracting him from his fight with Asha. Asha noticed them and stopped to instead play a bit with her newly acquired nephew.

Asha's smile was sharp, thinner than her brother's, but her lips looked fuller, softer.

Her laugh was loud, as she moved her elbows on the table and asked Bran to draw her a pirate.

Jeyne smiled, then lowered her eyes, shyly. Her chest clenched and she felt like she was so naked and easy to read, she prayed for nobody to have seen it.

Bran looked up to Asha and mumbled, “You look like Theon a lot.”

“I am the cooler version though.”

Bran frowned, “I'm not sure.”

“I drive a motorcycle.”, Asha argued.

Bran still looked doubtful, “Hm. That is cool, but not as cool.”

Asha faked a pout, then turned to Theon, to mock him a bit for having such a fan, except half of Theon's face was being sucked up by Robb's.

“...Alien and predator would be less gross when making out.”, she complained, groaning, then turned to Jeyne to check she was not too embarrassed by that scene and... Was Jeyne staring at her with a flush?

Asha took a moment to turn and return to Bran.

“Do they always do this?”

Bran nodded, glanced at them again and then nodded again, as if he hadd seen that a thousand times, “When Theon was sick, Dad was really worried, so now he kisses him a lot.”

“I see. - she smiled, biting his lips – You're a very observant one, aren't you?”

Bran shrugged, he didn't even really know what Asha meant, to be fair. She was somehow confusing, like she was always about to make a joke he couldn't grasp.

Asha also had a lot of studs on and Bran wasn't sure if that was badass or scary yet. He still had to decide.

“You remind me a lot of aunt Arya.”

Asha turned to Robb, “Arya is the cute one or the one who looks like a wet boy rat?”

Robb stiffened up, “Hey, it's my sisters.”

Theon blinked, unimpressed, “Wet boy.”

Asha looked at Bran again, “Yup, it's true. Hey, you know what we should do? I should take this kid to take a ride on the motorcycle.”

Bran gave a big smile, already ready to stand up and go when his father and Theon grabbed him, almost shielding him.

“He is too young, don't even think about that!”, Theon shouted.

“It's really too dangerous. - Robb half-pleaded, squeezing Bran close – You're too young, clear?”

Bran groaned in the tight hug and growled up, emerging from it with a huge pout.

“But I want to!”

Robb frowned, “It's not a good idea for a kid your age...”

And then Robb saw it.

A little wicked smirk. Then he rolled his eyes up, fakely-innocent, playing with his little tiny fingers. Sucked his lips.

...was his son pulling him a Theon Greyjoy request form?

“Well, I suppose I could stop wanting that if I got something cool!”

Robb blinked, between perplexed and curious to see where that was leading, then smiled, a bit endeared at the idea of Bran imitating Theon too.

“Like?”

“Weeeeell...”

He raised an eyebrow and picked him in his arms, “C'mon, tell daddy.”

“Me and Theon we really want a cat.”

Robb laughed, “Really? A cat?”

Theon smirked, “Told you, kiddo, he is a dog boy.”

Robb stuckk out his tongue to a Theon, who bit his lips between tenderness and need to kiss him, then held Bran tighter.

“Cats are great. You know, lions are cats, if you think about it.”, Robb admitted.

“I know! - Bran clapped – And tigers too! Isn't that extra cool? A minitiger!”

Asha shook her head and turned to Jeyne.

“I feel diabetes running my veins.”

Jeyne gave a small smile. She glanced at Theon's hand, at the scars on it, and the missing finger.

Nor Robb nor Bran seemed to find him broken.

Theon himself didn't seem to consider himself broken anymore.

He was happy.

And a weird wind took her lungs – she breathed spring and autumn together, in a bittersweet moment, where the joy for her friend met the awareness she was not there yet.

But, maybe, nobody was hopeless.

And, maybe, everyone has another chance, another time, another arrow to shoot up against the sky.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this, liked or left a comment. Thank you for your patience, care, love.  
> Thank you to those who helped me a lot to finish this despite personal ups and downs!  
> I truly do hope you will like this one!


End file.
